CHAPTER ONE
The present

IT WAS an idyllic day for a garden party. The sky was a deep blue; sparkling sunshine flooded the Valley; a cooling breeze lowered the spring into summer heat. A veritable explosion of flowering trees and foaming blossom had turned the rich rural area into one breathtakingly beautiful garden that leapt at the eye and caught at the throat. It was so perfect a world the inhabitants of Silver Valley felt privileged to live in it.

Only Charlotte Prescott, a widow at twenty-six, with a seven-year-old child, stood in front of the bank of mirrors in her dressing room, staring blindly at her own reflection. The end of an era had finally arrived, but there was no joy in it for her, for her father, or for Christopher, her clever, thoughtful child. They were the dispossessed, and nothing in the world could soothe the pain of loss.

For the past month, since the invitations had begun to arrive, Silver Valley had been eagerly anticipating the Open Day: a get-to-know-you garden party to be held in the grounds of the grandest colonial mansion in the valley, Riverbend. Such a lovely name, Riverbend! A private house, its grandeur reflected the wealth and community standing of the man who had built it in the 1880s, Charles Randall Marsdon, a young man of means who had migrated from England to a country that didn’t have a splendid past, like his homeland, but in his opinion had a glowing future. He’d meant to be part of that future. He’d meant to get to the top!

There might have been a certain amount of bravado in that young man’s goal, but Charles Marsdon had turned out not only to be a visionary, but a hard-headed businessman who had moved to the highest echelons of colonial life with enviable speed.

Riverbend was a wonderfully romantic two-storey mansion, with a fine Georgian façade and soaring white columns, its classic architecture adapted to climatic needs with large-scale open-arched verandahs providing deep shading for the house. It had been in the Marsdon family—her family—for six generations, but sadly it would never pass to her adored son. For the simple reason that Riverbend was no longer theirs. The mansion, its surrounding vineyards and olive groves, badly neglected since the Tragedy, had been sold to a company called Vortex. Little was known about Vortex, except that it had met the stiff price her father had put on the estate. Not that he could have afforded to take a lofty attitude. Marsdon money had all but run out. But Vivian Marsdon was an immensely proud man who never for a moment underestimated his important position in the Valley. It was everything to him to keep face. In any event, the asking price, exorbitantly high, had been paid swiftly—and oddly enough without a single quibble.

Now, months later, the CEO of the company was finally coming to town. Naturally she and her father had been invited, although neither of them had met any Vortex representative. The sale had been handled to her father’s satisfaction by their family solicitors, Dunnett & Banfield. Part of the deal was that her father was to have tenure of the Lodge—originally an old coach house—during his lifetime, after which it would be returned to the estate. The coach house had been converted and greatly enlarged by her grandfather into a beautiful and comfortable guest house that had enjoyed a good deal of use in the old days, when her grandparents had entertained on a grand scale, and it was at the Lodge they were living now. Just the three of them: father, daughter, grandson.

Her former in-laws—Martyn’s parents and his sister Nicole—barely acknowledged them these days. The estrangement had become entrenched in the eighteen months since Martyn’s death. Her husband, three years older than she, had been killed when he’d lost control of his high-powered sports car on a notorious black spot in the Valley and smashed into a tree. A young woman had been with him. Mercifully she’d been thrown clear of the car, suffering only minor injuries. It had later transpired she had been Martyn’s mistress for close on six months. Of course Martyn hadn’t been getting what he’d needed at home. If Charlotte had been a loving wife the tragedy would never have happened. The second major tragedy in her lifetime. It seemed very much as if Charlotte Prescott was a jinx.

Poor old you! Charlotte spoke silently to her image. What a mess you’ve made of your life!

She really didn’t need anyone to tell her that. The irony was that her father had made just as much a mess of his own life—even before the Tragedy. The first tragedy. The only one that mattered to her parents. Her father had had little time for Martyn, yet he himself was a man without insight into his own limitations. Perhaps the defining one was unloading responsibility. Vivian Marsdon was constitutionally incapable of accepting the blame for anything. Anything that went wrong was always someone else’s fault, or due to some circumstance beyond his control. The start of the Marsdon freefall from grace had begun when her highly respected grandfather, Sir Richard Marsdon, had died. His only son and heir had not been able to pick up the reins. It was as simple as that. The theory of three. One man made the money, the next enlarged on it, the third lost it. No better cushion than piles of money. Not every generation produced an heir with the Midas touch, let alone the necessary drive to manage and significantly enlarge the family fortune.

Her father, born to wealth and prestige, lacked Sir Richard’s strong character as well as his formidable business brain. Marsdon money had begun to disappear early, like water down a drain. Failed pie-in-the-sky schemes had been approached with enthusiasm. Her father had turned a deaf ear to cautioning counsel from accountants and solicitors alike. He knew best. Sadly, his lack of judgement had put a discernible dent in the family fortunes. And that was even before the Tragedy that had blighted their family life.

With a sigh of regret, Charlotte picked up her lovely hat with its wide floppy brim, settling it on her head. She rarely wore her long hair loose these days, preferring to pull it back from her face and arrange it in various knots. In any case, the straw picture hat demanded she pull her hair back off her face. Her dress was Hermes silk, in chartreuse, strapless except for a wide silk band over one shoulder that flowed down the bodice and short skirt. The hat was a perfect colour match, adorned with organdie peonies in masterly deep pinks that complemented the unique shade of golden lime-green.

The outfit wasn’t new, but she had only worn it once, at Melbourne Cup day when Martyn was alive. Martyn had taken great pride in how she looked. She’d always had to look her best. In those days she had been every inch a fashionista, such had been their extravagant and, it had to be said, empty lifestyle. Martyn had been a man much like her father—an inheritor of wealth who could do what he liked, when he liked, if he so chose. Martyn had made his choice. He had always expected to marry her, right from childhood, bringing about the union of two long-established rural families. And once he’d had her—he had always been mad about her—he had set about making their lifestyle a whirl of pleasure up until his untimely death.

From time to time she had consoled herself with the thought that perhaps Martyn, as he matured, would cease taking up endless defensive positions against his highly effective father, Gordon, come to recognise his family responsibilities and then pursue them with some skill and determination.

Sadly, all her hopes—and Gordon Prescott’s—had been killed off one by one. And she’d had to face some hard facts herself. Hadn’t she been left with a legacy of guilt? She had never loved Martyn. Bonded to him from earliest childhood, she had always regarded him with great affection. But romantic love? Never! The heart wasn’t obedient to the expectations of others. She knew what romantic love was. She knew about passion—dangerous passion and its infinite temptations—but she hadn’t steered away from it in the interests of safety. She had totally succumbed.

All these years later her heart still pumped his name.

Rohan.

She heard her son’s voice clearly. He sounded anxious. “Mummy, are you ready? Grandpa wants to leave.”

A moment later, Christopher, a strikingly handsome little boy, dressed in a bright blue shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons and grey cargo pants, tore into the room.

“Come on, come on,” he urged, holding out his hand to her. “He’s stomping around the hall and going red in the face. That means his blood pressure is going up, doesn’t it?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart,” Charlotte answered calmly. “Grandpa’s health is excellent. Stomping is a way to get our attention. Anyway, we’re not late,” she pointed out.

It had been after Martyn’s death, on her father’s urging, that she and Christopher had moved into the Lodge. Her father was sad and lonely, finding it hard getting over the big reversals in his life. She knew at some point she had to make a life for herself and her son. But where? She couldn’t escape the Valley. Christopher loved it here. It was his home. He loved his friends, his school, his beautiful environment and his bond with his grandfather. It made a move away from the Valley extremely difficult, and there were other crucial considerations for a single mother with a young child.

Martyn had left her little money. They had lived with his parents at their huge High Grove estate. They had wanted for nothing, all expenses paid, but Martyn’s father—knowing his son’s proclivities—had kept his son on a fairly tight leash. His widow, so all members of the Prescott family had come to believe, was undeserving.

“Grandpa runs to a timetable of his own,” Christopher was saying, shaking his golden-blond head. She too was blonde, with green eyes. Martyn had been fair as well, with greyish-blue eyes. Christopher’s eyes were as brilliant as blue-fire diamonds. “You look lovely in that dress, Mummy,” he added, full of love and pride in his beautiful mother. “Please don’t be sad today. I just wish I was seventeen instead of seven,” he lamented. “I’m just a kid. But I’ll grow up and become a great big success. You’ll have me to look after you.”

“My knight in shining armour!” She bent to give him a big hug, then took his outstretched hand, shaking it back and forth as if beginning a march. “Onward, Christian soldiers!”

“What’s that?” He looked up at her with interest.

“It’s an English hymn,” she explained. Her father wouldn’t have included hymns in the curriculum. Her father wasn’t big on hymns. Not since the Tragedy. “It means we have to go forth and do our best. Endure. It was a favourite hymn of Sir Winston Churchill. You know who he was?”

“Of course!” Christopher scoffed. “He was the great English World War II Prime Minister. The country gave him a huge amount of money for his services to the nation, then they took most of it back in tax. Grandpa told me.”

Charlotte laughed. Very well read himself, her father had taken it upon himself to “educate” Christopher. Christopher had attended the best school in the Valley for a few years now, but her father took his grandson’s education much further, taking pride and delight it setting streams of general, historical and geographical questions for which Christopher had to find the answers. Christopher was already computer literate but her father wasn’t—something that infuriated him—and insisted he find the answers in the books in the well-stocked library. Christopher never cheated. He always came up trumps. Christopher was a very clever little boy.

Like his father.

The garden party was well underway by the time they finished their stroll along the curving driveway. Riverbend had never looked more beautiful, Charlotte thought, pierced by the same sense of loss she knew her father was experiencing—though one would never have known it from his confident Lord of the Manor bearing. Her father was a handsome man, but alas not a lot of people in the Valley liked him. The mansion, since they had moved, had undergone very necessary repairs. These days it was superbly maintained, and staffed by a housekeeper, her husband—a sort of major-domo—and several ground staff to bring the once-famous gardens back to their best. A good-looking young woman came out from Sydney from time to time, to check on what was being done. Charlotte had met her once, purely by accident.

© Margaret Way, PTY., LTD 2011

THE ENGAGEMENT
PROJECT

BRENDA HARLEN

AND

HER SURPRISE

HERO

ABBY GAINES

www.millsandboon.co.uk

THE ENGAGEMENT
PROJECT

BRENDA HARLEN

About the Author

BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as a lawyer (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com.

Dear Reader,

I’ve always enjoyed reading and writing connected stories because of the opportunities they provide to meet new characters and revisit old friends.

A few years ago, I wrote a book called The Marriage Solution. It was, at the time, a stand-alone story, but the hero had a brother, and, even then, I knew that I would write his story someday.

Of course, Gage Richmond was an unapologetic playboy who had some growing up to do before he was worthy of his own happily-ever-after. Thankfully, Megan Roarke is just the right woman to help him on that journey.

I’m thrilled to share their story with you and excited to announce that The Engagement Project is only the first book in my new BRIDES & BABIES miniseries. Because I’ve always enjoyed meeting new characters and revisiting old friends.

I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

All the best,

Brenda Harlen

To my mom—

Because you taught me to be strong, to believe in

myself, and to never give up.

And because there’s a little bit of you in every

one of my heroines.

I love you

Chapter One

Megan Roarke hated shopping.

Her older sister often teased that there was something defective in Megan’s double-X chromosome that she balked at going to the mall. Of course, Megan couldn’t expect her to understand. Ashley was “the beautiful one”—the one who looked good in anything and drew glances of admiration wherever she went.

Megan, on the other hand, had always been referred to as “the smart one.” She’d started to read when she was three years old and had spent most of the next twenty years with her nose in a book. She read everything she could get her hands on—from fantastical stories about magical lands to biographies of world leaders to technical manuals. Books were her bridges to so many different places, knowledge was the key that opened new worlds—and a whole lot of other clichés that hid the real truth: she’d been a painfully shy and socially inept child who found refuge from the harsh realities of life between the covers of a book.

And through her reading, she’d learned that the childhood labels attached to herself and her sister did both of them a disservice. While Ashley was undeniably beautiful, she was also a smart and savvy woman; and though Megan accepted that there would always be people who were intimidated by her high IQ, she knew her intelligence wasn’t the sum total of her character.

Still, she didn’t bother to try and dispel the stereotypical image people inevitably formed when they learned that she was a scientist, because she was a lab geek. She loved her work, and she would much rather spend time with formulas than people. Not that she disliked people, exactly. She just didn’t understand them. Elemental properties were consistent and chemical reactions were predictable. Human beings, on the other hand, always seemed inconsistent and unpredictable.

Ashley claimed that was what made people so interesting, and she would know. Not only had Megan’s sister enjoyed an active social life before she’d met the man who was now her fiancé, she taught first grade at a local school and absolutely thrived in the environment of incessant noise and unending chaos that was created by twenty six-year-olds in a classroom.

But it was the recent engagement that was the cause of Megan’s dreaded trip to the Pinehurst Shopping Center. Apparently it wasn’t enough that Trevor had put a ring on Ashley’s finger, now they were having a party to celebrate the event.

“Nothing fancy,” Ashley had assured her. “Just drinks and hors d’oeuvres with family and some close friends.”

Of course, Megan knew her sister’s definition of “nothing fancy” was drastically different from her own and that even drinks and hors d’oeuvres required something a little more formal than comfy faded jeans and her favorite “Go Green” T-shirt—especially since their mother had become involved in the planning.

The sky had turned dark by the time Megan pulled into a vacant parking space and the first drops of rain were starting to fall as she dashed across the lot.

The mall was busier than she would have expected for a Friday afternoon, and she found herself hesitating inside the entrance.

She’d always been a little uncomfortable in crowds, always feeling as if everyone was looking at her. It wasn’t just an irrational feeling but a ridiculous one, because the reality was that no one ever noticed her. Megan didn’t stand out in a crowd of one, but she still had to force herself to take a deep breath before she could step forward.

For a lot of years, she’d simply avoided crowds rather than fight against the panicky feelings they stirred inside. But over the past few years, she’d made an effort to overcome this fear, and had mostly done so. She rarely felt afraid anymore, just awkward and uncomfortable.

A strand of hair had come loose from her ponytail and she tucked it behind her ear as she studied the mall directory, looking for Chaundra’s Boutique.

“I asked Anne-Marie to set aside the cutest little dress that I know will look fabulous on you,” Ashley had told her.

Nothing had ever looked fabulous on Megan’s shapeless frame, but she hadn’t disputed her sister’s statement. There was no changing Ashley’s mind once it was made up and if she wanted her to buy this dress, Megan would buy the dress. It was certainly an easier solution than having to pick something out on her own.

She headed through the maze of halls toward the boutique. Thirteen minutes later—three of which were taken up with a phone call from Ashley, who wanted to make sure Megan hadn’t forgotten to stop at the mall and then, when she realized her sister was in the boutique, convinced her to let Anne-Marie pick out some jewelry to go with the dress—she was on her way back out again. A relatively quick and painless shopping experience, Megan thought gratefully, as she retraced her steps toward the exit.

An opinion that quickly changed when she stood at the doors and stared out at the rain pounding down on the pavement. With a sigh, she folded the dress bag over her arm and pushed open the door. She was halfway to her car when she realized her keys weren’t in her pocket—and totally drenched by the time she turned around again.

She tracked her keys down in Chaundra’s Boutique, by the register where she’d set them down to answer her sister’s call. She thanked the perpetually smiling Anne Marie again and left the store, wondering how anyone could be so perky all the time, thanking her lucky stars that she worked in the lab where smiling was optional.

Then she turned the corner and walked into a brick wall.

Okay, so it only felt like a brick wall, Megan acknowledged. What it was, in reality, was a man’s chest.

She berated herself for her clumsiness as she lifted her gaze and prepared to apologize. But the words stuck in her throat when she pushed her soggy bangs away from her face and recognized the man standing in front of her.

Gage Richmond.

The younger son of the CEO of Richmond Pharmaceuticals. The man whose mere presence always made her pulse race and her knees quiver.

The first time she’d met him, on her first day of work at the R.P. lab, she’d nearly melted in a puddle at his feet just because he shook her hand. The man was seriously hot—and Megan had been seriously smitten. Not that she would ever admit it, of course. In fact, she went out of her way to avoid him whenever possible because she didn’t want him to know that her heart beat a little bit faster whenever he was near. And she didn’t want to acknowledge—even to herself—that she was shallow enough to be attracted to a hard body and sexy smile, especially considering her past experience with his type.

On the other hand, no one she’d ever known quite measured up to Gage Richmond. He had thick, light brown hair that curled just above the collar of his shirt, stunning golden brown eyes surrounded by unbelievably long lashes, a strong square jaw and a temptingly shaped mouth. And then there was his body—a long and lean six feet two inches of delicious and delectable male.

“Sorry about that,” he said, holding out the keys that had slipped from her grasp when they’d collided.

“My fault,” she managed to reply, looking away again and desperately hoping that he wouldn’t recognize her.

“No, it was mine. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Then he destroyed her meager hope by saying, “It’s Megan, right?”

She nodded, a little surprised that he’d remembered. Men like Gage Richmond didn’t usually notice women like her, despite the fact that she’d worked for his father’s company for almost three years.

“I guess it’s really raining out there now,” he said.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I generally just drench myself before coming out in public because I like the wet look.”

Ashley had often said her tendency to hide her fears and insecurities behind sarcasm was going to get her in trouble someday and, even as the words spilled out of Megan’s mouth, she wished she could yank them back.

But Gage only grinned. “I’d say it’s a good look for you except that you’re shivering.”

“The price women pay to be fashionable.”

“How about a cup of coffee to warm you up?”

Gage Richmond was asking her to have coffee with him? Megan couldn’t believe it.

“Or don’t you drink coffee?” he prompted.

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes. I do drink coffee. But I’m not drinking coffee now. I mean, I don’t want any coffee. I want to go home.”

Megan could hear the words tumbling out of her mouth, but didn’t seem able to stop them. If they’d been in California, she could hope that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. But in Pinehurst, New York, earthquakes were extremely rare, so she was forced to live with the humiliating knowledge that she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of her boss’s son.

But Gage either didn’t notice or didn’t care that she was rambling almost incoherently, because he asked, “Is there anything I can say that would talk you into hanging around for another half an hour or so?”

“Why do you want me to hang around?” she asked bluntly.

He lifted one broad shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m kind of stuck trying to figure out a birthday present and I would really appreciate a woman’s input.”

“A birthday present?”

“For my seven-year-old niece,” he clarified.

“I don’t know a lot about kids,” she told him.

“Yeah, but you probably know more than me. Please?”

It wasn’t the word so much as the silent entreaty in those golden brown eyes. And if there was a woman alive who could say “no” to such a plea—and Gage’s reputation led her to believe that there wasn’t—she’d have to be a stronger woman than Megan because, even while her mind was scrambling for a reason to refuse, she was nodding her head.

Between his four nieces, Gage had garnered a lot of experience in gift buying over the past several years, most of it successful. But he always seemed to strike out where Lucy was concerned.

His youngest niece was a mystery to him. With the other girls, at least when they were younger, he could usually go into any store and pick up the newest and hottest toy. Of course, Gracie was almost a teenager now, so gift certificates to her favorite clothing stores were an obvious solution. The twins, Eryn and Allie, were close to the double digits and though they had little in common aside from their golden hair and green eyes, were both easily pleased. But Lucy, on the verge of her seventh birthday, continued to baffle him.

She was quiet—which maybe wasn’t so unusual considering that she was the youngest of four sisters—and very intense. Whatever she did, she did with 100 percent of her attention on the task, whether that task was reading a book, building a LEGO sculpture or kicking a soccer ball. He’d never known anyone—especially not a child—with such focus.

But the first time he’d met Megan Roarke, he’d been struck by the uncanny sense that he’d just been introduced to the woman his youngest niece would be twenty years in the future. It was more than that they were both blue-eyed blondes—it was the quiet intelligence that shone in their eyes and the concentrated intensity with which they applied themselves to a challenge. So he figured it had to be some kind of sign that he’d arrived at the mall to search for a birthday gift and he’d found the research scientist instead.

He led the way to the toy store and she followed. He knew she wasn’t the type to talk unless she had something to say and he didn’t mind the silence. It was a pleasant change from frivolous conversation, although he did wonder why she didn’t seem to want to talk to and flirt with him, as most women—and particularly those who knew him as the boss’s youngest and only unmarried son—were inclined to do.

He pondered this thought as he negotiated through the maze of promotional displays and sale items toward the back section of the store. Then he wondered why he was pondering. So what if Megan wasn’t interested in him? He wasn’t interested in her, either. She was far too staid, too serious, not at all the type of woman he usually dated.

Of course, he hadn’t dated much at all in the past year and he wasn’t looking for a date now. He was just looking for help in picking out a birthday gift for his niece.

Megan’s eyes widened as she turned down an aisle that was stacked floor to ceiling with pink packages of various shapes and sizes.

“This is where I generally start,” he told her. “Usually as long as it’s something new and in a big box, Eryn and Allie are happy.”

“Then why do you need my help?”

“Because it’s Lucy’s birthday.”

“How many nieces do you have?”

“Four,” he answered. “Lucy, who’s going to be seven, is the youngest, the twins—Eryn and Allie—are almost ten and Gracie is twelve.”

“I really don’t know a lot about kids,” Megan said again.

“But you have an advantage over me in that you were once a seven-year-old girl yourself.”

“A very long time ago.”

He didn’t believe it was so very long ago. In fact, considering that she’d completed her master’s degree in biochemistry at Columbia University just shortly before she’d started working at Richmond Pharmaceuticals, he would bet she couldn’t be more than twenty-eight.

She looked younger, though. Both younger and prettier than he’d expected. Certainly prettier than any woman hiding in a lab should be, even with the thick-framed glasses. She wore little if any makeup, but her features didn’t need much artificial enhancement, and the ponytail she habitually wore emphasized the creamy complexion of her skin.

But there was a sweetness about her, too. A gentle innocence that was somehow both intriguing and intimidating. In any event, she was definitely too sweet for a guy like him.

Maybe that was why, prior to their paths crossing unexpectedly tonight, he’d barely given a second thought to Megan Roarke. In fact, he’d never thought about her at all except in relation to her work in the lab.

But their chance meeting—revealing unexpected evidence of her dry sense of humor—had snagged his attention. Or maybe it was the garment bag that had piqued his interest.

His mother bought a lot of her clothes from Chaundra’s Boutique, and it surprised him to learn that Megan shopped at the exclusive women’s store, too. She seemed more like the type to buy what she needed from Lab Coats ‘R’ Us, and it made him wonder exactly what was in the bag draped over her arm.

But he forced his attention away from the woman and to the task at hand.

“Anything bring back fond memories?” he asked, gesturing to the toys that surrounded them.

She paused in front of an elaborate three-story doll-house, her brow furrowed, as if she was trying to remember. “I didn’t play with Barbies. Well, sometimes with my sister,” she amended. “But only if I didn’t have a choice.”

“What did you play with?”

“My all-time favorite gift was a chemistry set—at least until I blew up the kitchen and my mother took it away from me.”

“I’ll bet that’s not a story you told when you interviewed for your job at R.P.”

Her lips tilted up at the corners. “Actually, I didn’t really blow up the kitchen at all. I just mixed together some ingredients that reacted violently and spewed a sticky mess all over everything.”

“Mentos and Coke?” he guessed.

“It was a slight variation on that,” she told him, her eyes sparkling behind the lenses of her glasses. “And the explosion much more spectacular.”

Gage lost track of what she was saying, stunned by the realization that her eyes weren’t blue, as he’d always assumed, but violet.

In the almost three years they’d worked in the same lab—albeit in different areas—he’d never noticed the unique color. On the other hand, there was probably a lot about her that he’d never noticed because she wasn’t the type of woman who usually drew his attention. And he was starting to think that might have been a distinct oversight on his part.

“I’m not sure if chemistry is Lucy’s thing,” he said now, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand. “Although my sister-in-law probably wouldn’t appreciate kitchen explosions any less than the bugs her youngest daughter is always bringing into the house.”

“She’s into bugs?” Megan asked, sounding intrigued.

He nodded. “Completely fascinated by anything creepy-crawly.”

“Then that’s where you start looking for a gift.”

“You’re not honestly suggesting that I should give bugs to Lucy?”

“Of course not.” She smiled again. “She would probably prefer to get them herself.”

Baffled by that response, Gage wordlessly followed Megan to the science & nature department on the other side of the store, where she proceeded to point out magnifying glasses and bug boxes and books and all kinds of other must-haves for an aspiring entomologist.

Gage found her enthusiasm so contagious that there was soon an impressive assortment of packages piled at his feet, beside the dress bag Megan had unceremoniously dumped on top of a display of ladybug houses so that she had both hands free to explore the offerings.

“Look at this,” she said, turning to him with yet another box in her hands.

“What is it?”

“It’s a NASA-inspired ant farm. The bugs live in and tunnel through the gel, which serves as their food and water, too, so it’s very low maintenance. It also has LEDs that highlight the tunnels and let the unit function as a night-light.”

“That’s … practical,” Gage decided. “If maybe a little … weird.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Megan reminded him. “So long as your niece does.”

“True,” he allowed, even while he wondered if his niece’s mother would be so philosophical.

Before Megan could say anything else, her wrist beeped. She glanced at her watch, then thrust the ant farm into his hands. “Sorry,” she said. “But I have to run.”

“No, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time,” he told her, though he was more sorry that she had to go.

She looked at the pile of potential gifts on the floor, then at the box he held in his hands. “I hope Lucy likes whatever you get for her birthday.”

“I’m sure she will, thanks to you.”

She smiled at that, then lifted her hand and sort of waved. “I guess I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

He nodded, and watched as she walked away. Her oversize shirt was tucked into baggy pants that gave no hint of any curves beneath, and yet, the subtle sway of her hips was distinctly feminine and decidedly intriguing.

He shook his head, as if that action might banish the unexpected thought. She really wasn’t his type. And even if she was, he had enough on his mind right now without the added complication of a woman.

When she was out of sight, he grabbed a vacant cart and loaded it up—then spotted the abandoned garment bag. Despite his recent admonition, he couldn’t deny the anticipation that surged through his veins as he tossed it on top of the pile of gifts.

Now he didn’t have to wait until Monday to see the intriguing Megan Roarke again.

Chapter Two

Megan wasn’t surprised to find that her sister Ashley’s Honda was already in the driveway of the town house they shared when she got home from her trip to the mall. She was surprised to see Paige Wilder’s Audi parked behind it.

Paige was their cousin, though both Megan and Ashley thought of her as another sister since she’d lived with them while they were in high school, and they always included her in any plans they made together. A family-law attorney with a practice that seemed to get busier and busier each year, Paige had declined more invitations than she’d accepted in recent months, so Megan was doubly pleased that she was there tonight.

As she made her way through the kitchen, following their voices toward the dining room, she noticed the two bottles of merlot on the counter, one of which was already uncorked. Another great thing about Paige—whenever she did make an appearance, she could always be counted on to bring the wine.

“Are we planning on doing some serious drinking tonight?” she asked.

“Is your mother coming?” Paige countered.

Megan had forgotten that detail—or maybe put it deliberately out of her mind.

“In that case, two bottles might not be enough,” she warned, accepting the glass that her sister poured for her as she boosted herself onto one of the high-back chairs at the pub-style table.

“I asked Paige to come early so that we could get most of the details worked out before Mom gets here,” Ashley explained.

“You mean, before she can take over,” Megan said.

Her sister nodded, as Paige muttered, “Good luck with that.”

Megan believed that Lillian Roarke had tried to be a good mother to her daughters, and a good aunt to the niece who was dumped in her care whenever a military crisis called Paige’s father to duty. The problem was she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

What Lillian did have were exacting standards and high expectations. And while she appeared outwardly supportive of both of her children, what masqueraded as praise was often barely concealed criticism, and encouragement was often a thinly veiled expression of doubt. Even after twenty-five years, Megan hadn’t become immune to her mother’s negativity.

Had there not been doctors and nurses present to witness her birth, Megan might have questioned whether there was truly any familial connection between herself and her mother. Lillian had never been the type to wipe tears or kiss boo-boos or snuggle under the covers to chase away bad dreams. But when there were events to be planned—graduations and engagement parties, for example—she was always front and center to ensure that everything was done just right.

Lillian had always been more concerned about appearances than reality, and at the celebration of her daughter’s engagement, she would be the smiling and supportive mother-of-the-bride-to-be despite her frequently spoken belief that twenty-eight-year-old Ashley was making a mistake in marrying so quickly—and especially in marrying Trevor Byden.

It was rare for Megan to agree with her mother on anything, but she had to admit—if only to herself—that she shared some of those concerns regarding Ashley’s engagement. While she liked Trevor well enough, and there was no doubt that the accountant was devoted to her sister, she wasn’t convinced that Ashley loved him as much as she loved what he was offering her—marriage and the hope of having the babies she wanted so badly.

“So where’s the dress?” Paige’s question jolted her out of her reverie. “I can’t wait to see it on you.”

“Dress?” Megan echoed, then closed her eyes as realization hit. “Oh, no.”

Ashley set a tray of crudités on the table. “Oh, no, what?”

Megan swallowed another mouthful of wine. “I kind of—uh—forgot it.”

“Forgot it? Where? How?” Her sister impatiently tossed the questions at her. “I talked to you while you were at the boutique buying it.”

And Megan knew she’d had the dress when she’d left the store, and when she’d run into Gage and when they’d gone into the toy store. Then she’d put it down somewhere and had obviously forgotten to pick it up again. But how could she admit that to her sister?

“I forgot my keys in the boutique,” she hedged.

“I’m not worried about your keys,” Ashley said.

“And when I went back to get them,” she continued as if her sister hadn’t spoken, “I ran into someone I know.”

“A man,” Paige guessed.

Megan frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“There was the slightest hesitation before you said someone and your cheeks immediately turned pink.”

“You must be deadly on cross-examination,” Ashley mused.

“It’s a talent,” Paige acknowledged, then turned her attention back to Megan. “So—who is he?”

“Just someone from the lab.”

“Workplace romances are inherently plagued with problems,” her cousin warned.

“There’s no romance.”

“Obviously something happened to make you forget your dress,” Ashley pointed out.

“He asked me to help him pick out a birthday gift.”

“Not for another woman?” Paige demanded.

Megan shook her head. “For his niece.”

“Oh.” Her sister smiled. “That’s sweet.”

It was kind of sweet. And after Megan had gotten over the nervousness evoked by Gage’s mere presence, she’d been impressed to realize that he really did care about finding a gift the little girl would like.

“So we went to the toy store, and I must have put the dress down—”

“And picked up stars in your eyes,” Paige interjected.

Megan shook her head. “I have no illusions.”

Ashley frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s just not the type of man who would ever notice a woman like me.”

“Define a woman like you,” Paige demanded.

Megan loved that her cousin and her sister were so quick to defend her, but family loyalty didn’t allow either of them to see her as clearly as she saw herself. She wasn’t beautiful or sexy or charismatic, qualities that both Paige and Ashley had in spades. She was the girl next door, the reliable friend, the neighborhood pal. And that was why she and Gage Richmond would never be anything more than colleagues and possibly friends.

“I only meant—”

The doorbell chimed, sounding a reprieve.

“That will be Mom,” she said, pushing her chair away from the table.

“Mom doesn’t ring the doorbell,”Ashley reminded her.

When Megan opened the door, her sister’s statement was confirmed. It wasn’t Lillian Roarke on the doorstep. It was Gage Richmond.

“I called Lois Edmond in H.R. to find out where you lived,” he told her.

“Why?” Megan asked, too stunned by his unexpected appearance to think of anything else to say.

“Because you forgot this—” he held up the bag from Chaundra’s Boutique”—in the toy store, and I didn’t know if it was something you needed tonight.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Before Megan could say anything else, she heard footsteps in the hall and knew that curiosity had drawn her sister and her cousin to the door to check out their visitor.

“Hi, I’m Ashley,” she said. “Megan’s sister.”

“I would have guessed that,” he said.

“Really?” Ashley said, while Megan resisted the urge to snort her disbelief. No one who didn’t already know they were related had ever commented on a resemblance between the sisters.

“You have the same eyes,” he explained, an observation that made Megan rethink her own opinion of Gage Richmond.

While people frequently commented on Ashley’s unusual eyes, they rarely took note of Megan’s, hidden behind her glasses. Maybe he wasn’t quite as shallow and self-absorbed as he was painted by his reputation.

“Handsome and observant,” Paige noted with approval.

Megan found herself wishing for an earthquake again. Hadn’t she embarrassed herself in front of the boss’s son enough already without her sister and cousin adding to her humiliation?

“My cousin Paige,” Megan told him, reluctantly making the introduction.

“And you are?” Ashley prompted the man on the doorstep.

“Would you believe the deliveryman from the boutique?” Megan suggested before Gage could reply.

“No,” her sister replied flatly, not taking her eyes off of Gage.

Not that Megan could blame her for that.

“Gage Richmond,” he said, and offered one of his infamous heart-stopping smiles.

“Thanks for bringing the bag,” Megan said, silently urging him along before her well-intentioned but misguided family members could say or do anything to embarrass her further. After all, she didn’t need their help when she’d already done a fine job of that entirely on her own.

“Yes, thank you,” Ashley said. “Since the dress is for my engagement party, I very much appreciate that you returned it to Megan.”

“It was my pleasure,” Gage said. “And bringing it by gave me another chance to thank your sister for her help with my shopping.”

“Handsome, observant, considerate and appreciative,” Paige amended, with a nod of approval. “Why don’t you come in for a glass of wine so we can chat some more?”

“I’m sure Gage has somewhere else that he needs to be,” Megan interrupted quickly, desperately.

She caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes and suspected that he was considering Paige’s invitation, if only because he knew she didn’t want him to. But when he finally spoke, it was to say, “As a matter of fact, I should be getting home. I have some birthday presents to wrap.”

“Another time?” Paige said.

“Thank you again.” Megan spoke clearly, determined to take control of the situation—and the flutters in her tummy.

Gage nodded, accepting the dismissal, before turning his attention to the two women hovering in the doorway behind her. “It was nice meeting you both.”

“You, too,” they chorused, leaning closer to watch him walk down the driveway.

Though Megan was probably even more reluctant to tear her gaze from his retreating form, she firmly closed the door and turned back toward the kitchen.

Paige raised her brows. “Now I understand why you forgot the dress.”

Megan held the bag aloft, eager to talk about anything but Gage Richmond. “Didn’t you say you wanted to see this?”

“Later.” Ashley took it from her and hung it in the closet. “Right now, I want to hear more about Mr. Tall, Dark and Yummy.”

“There’s nothing more to tell,” Megan insisted, turning back toward the kitchen as the door opened behind her again.

As Ashley had noted when the bell rang earlier, their mother wasn’t the type to observe such formalities at their home.

“Who was that just leaving?” Lillian Roarke asked in lieu of a greeting.

Before Megan could reply, Paige said, “That was Megan’s new boyfriend.”

Gage was wrapping Lucy’s presents—or at least stuffing them into decorative bags with tissue—when Allan Richmond stopped by on his way home after a late meeting. He’d seen his dad at work earlier and would be seeing him again at Lucy’s birthday party the next day, so Gage guessed there was a specific reason for this visit now, even if he couldn’t figure out what that might be.

He offered his father a beer and a microwaved meal. Allan took the drink but declined the frozen lasagna.

“Grace is holding dinner for me,” he explained.

“Must be nice to go home to a hot meal,” Gage said, shoving the box back into the freezer.

“It’s even nicer to have someone to go home to.”

“Is that the real reason you stopped by—to extol the virtues of married life?”

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time—nor the last. Though Gage couldn’t remember exactly when his parents had become so interested in his marital status, he thought it was some time after his brother and sister-in-law had announced—after the birth of their fourth child—that they weren’t planning on having any more. Grace absolutely doted on her grandbabies and had apparently turned her attention to her younger son in the hope that he would settle down and add to the clan.

Actually, Craig and Gage were Grace’s stepsons, but she had always been more of a mother to the boys than the woman who had given birth to them. As a result, there wasn’t anything Gage wouldn’t do for Grace—except marry and have children.

“No,” his father responded to his question. “I stopped by to tell you that Dean Garrison is planning to retire at the end of the summer.”

The announcement wasn’t really news to Gage. Garrison, the current vice president of Clinical Science, had been talking about retirement for a few years now.

“You’re one of several candidates whose name has been put forward to fill the position.”

“One of several?” Gage echoed, unable to hide his surprise.

Though no explicit promises had ever been made, he’d always believed that the job would be his when Garrison retired. It was all he’d ever wanted, everything he’d worked toward.

“I want to give you the job,” Allan told him.

“But?”

“But the fact that your name is Richmond isn’t justification enough. You need to prove that you’re V.P. material.”

“Hasn’t my work over the past half dozen years proven it already?”

“Your work has been exemplary. It’s your reputation outside of work that has led some of our more conservative board members to question your maturity and commitment.”

“My reputation outside of work?” he found himself echoing his father’s words again.

“Your inability to commit to a relationship,” Allan clarified. “Moving from one relationship to another, from one woman to another, could give the impression that you’re shortsighted—unable or unwilling to focus on the long-term.

“Face it, Gage. You’ve earned yourself quite the reputation as a playboy and that’s not the image we want for our executives at Richmond Pharmaceuticals. Until you settle down, I can’t—and I won’t—go to bat for you with the board.”

“I used to date a lot of different women,” he acknowledged. “But I haven’t been dating at all in the past few months.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

His father finished his beer and set the empty bottle down. “Maybe that’s true.”

“What else could it be?”

“Do you really want to know what I think?”

Gage wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyway.

“I think—I hope—you might finally have realized that you’ve been wasting your time with women who are completely wrong for you.”

“That’s assuming there’s a woman out there somewhere who’s right for me.”

“There is,” Allan said with certainty. “And when you find her, you’ll know it.”

Gage wasn’t convinced. He also wasn’t looking for any “right” woman. He liked being able to come and go as he pleased, not being accountable to anyone but himself. He was happy with his life—or he would be, as soon as he was in the V.P. office.

And now he had a specific timeline to focus his efforts: six months. He’d been given half a year to prove to his father and the rest of the board of directors at Richmond Pharmaceuticals that he was mature and responsible—like his brother, Craig.

Allan Richmond might not have mentioned his older son’s name out loud, but the comparison was implied. Gage had always been measured against his brother, and he’d always come up short. The fact that Craig was already a V.P. and Gage was not was proof of that.

But what else did Craig have that Gage didn’t?

A wife and four kids.

He frowned at the answer that immediately sprang to mind, because he had no intention of following his brother’s footsteps down the matrimonial path. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to settle down. Maybe a wife and family was the American dream for a lot of men, but to him, it was a nightmare.

As a child caught in the middle of a nasty custody battle between his parents, he’d learned early on to protect himself. He put up safeguards around his heart so that every time he moved from his father’s house to his mother’s and back again, it hurt a little less. When his mother left for the last time, he almost didn’t care.

And he hadn’t let himself love another woman since. Not the head-over-heels type of love, anyway. Maybe he’d come close a couple of times, but he’d always pulled back before he got in too deep. Even with Beth, his only serious long-term girlfriend and the only woman he’d even believed himself to be in love with, he’d been the one to leave rather than be left behind.

And thankfully he’d been mistaken about the whole love thing, which he proved by putting Beth out of his mind and concentrating on his career. And any woman who claimed he didn’t know the meaning of commitment didn’t understand him at all, because he was already committed to his job. And now he had a new focus—to ensure that the V.P. office would be his by the end of the summer.

It was almost ten o’clock before Lillian Roarke was finally satisfied that all the necessary details for the engagement party had been taken care of and said good-night to her daughters and niece. Ashley went to her room to call her fiancé and update him on the plans, and Megan turned to Paige and demanded, “What have you done?”

Her cousin didn’t feign ignorance or apology. “I got your mother off your back for one night,” she said.

“But now she thinks I have a boyfriend, which she interpreted to mean a date for Ashley’s engagement party.”

“And you will have, as soon as you invite Gage Richmond to go with you.”

Megan shook her head. “I barely know the man.”

“You know him well enough to help him shop for a birthday gift for his niece.”

“We happened to cross paths at the mall and he was desperate.”

“Well, happen to cross paths with him at work and tell him that you’re desperate.”

“Yeah, I can see how that kind of approach would appeal,” she said drily.

Paige laughed as she sorted the lists and notes that littered the table. “I’ll bet it’s one he hasn’t heard before.”

“And not one he’s going to hear from me,” Megan said.

“Why not? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” she denied. “But you know I don’t have the best track record with men.”

“You’ve made a few errors in judgment,” Paige acknowledged with a shrug. “So have I. So has your sister.”

Megan guessed her cousin’s thoughts were on a similar path to her own—wondering if Trevor Byden was Ashley’s prince charming or another error in judgment. She pushed the thought aside and picked up her wineglass.

“Asking Gage Richmond out on a date wouldn’t be an error in judgment,” she finally said. “It would be an invitation to humiliation.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the man is a major leaguer when it comes to dating and I’m still at the T-ball stage.”

Paige smiled at the analogy. “Well, that major leaguer seemed majorly interested in playing ball with you.”

“Because he delivered a dress that I was careless enough to leave in a toy store?” she asked skeptically.

“Because he couldn’t take his eyes off of you the whole time he was here.”

Megan shook her head. She wished it was true but experience had proven that men like Gage Richmond were oblivious to her.

“And no one else will be able to take their eyes off of you when you walk into your sister’s engagement party with him.”

Except that Megan would walk into the party alone, and her mother would pretend to hide her disappointment.

As a child, her relatives had often referred to her as “poor little Megan” because she was too shy to make friends, preferring to hide in a corner rather than make conversation with people she didn’t know. She might not be “little” anymore, but nothing else had changed.

“I can picture it clearly,” Paige continued. “The surprise and envy on everyone’s faces—most notably our cousin Camilla’s—when you show up with that sexy man at your side.”

Showing up with Gage would definitely create some ripples in the family pond, especially by the ruffled feathers of those who had grown so smug about Megan’s solo appearance at social events.

“Forget it,” she said. “I’ll think about inviting a date to the party, but it won’t be Gage Richmond.”

Paige’s lips curved as she tipped the last of the wine into her cousin’s glass. “I dare you.”

Megan narrowed her eyes. “I’m not ten years old anymore. You can’t get me to do something I don’t want to simply by uttering those three words.”

“How about bribery?”

She sipped her wine.

“Of course, not having to listen to your mother’s commentary about the importance of putting on some lipstick if you ever want to meet a nice man should be incentive enough,” Paige told her, “but I’ll sweeten the deal.

“If you invite Gage Richmond to be your date for Ashley’s engagement party, we’ll all go to Gia’s Spa before the event. My treat.”

Megan had never cared much about the latest hairstyles or makeup trends, but she did enjoy a good foot treatment, and Gia’s were absolutely the best. “Do I get the pedicure even if he says no?”

“I’ll only know for sure that you asked if he says yes,” her cousin pointed out.

She frowned at that. “He won’t say yes.”

“Ask him.” Paige tossed back the last of her wine then grinned wickedly. “And maybe the next time he gives you back your clothes, it will be after he picks them up off the floor beside his bed.”

Chapter Three

Bugs, Gage mused, as he made his way toward the employee café to grab a cup of coffee on the Monday morning after Lucy’s birthday party. Who would have guessed that a seven-year-old girl would get so excited about bugs?

He certainly wouldn’t, which was why he’d been so far off base with the other gifts he’d given to Lucy over the years. He’d assumed—obviously incorrectly—that just because she was a girl, she’d like baby dolls and ballet slippers. And he would have struck out again if he hadn’t dragged Megan Roarke into the toy store with him.

Thinking of Megan now, he realized he might have made some incorrect assumptions where she was concerned, too. There was a lot more to her than he’d originally suspected.

He spotted her at the counter as soon as he entered the café, as if she’d been conjured by his thoughts. She was alone, as she frequently was, and apparently preoccupied by her own thoughts as she added milk and sugar to her coffee.

He smiled, genuinely pleased to see her and eager to tell her about the success of his shopping expedition. But he hesitated, his recent conversation with his father still lingering in the back of his mind.

In his younger days, he had sometimes been less than discreet while dating an employee of R.P.—and he’d dated quite a few women from the company. Of course, none of those relationships had been serious or long-term, and it hadn’t been long before coworkers started placing bets on the duration of a new romance. Gage hadn’t learned about this pool until it had been going on for a while, and when he did, he vowed to stop dating women from work.

That was a few years ago now, but he still worried that seeking out Megan in a public venue might start the rumor mill churning again. On the other hand, he was confident that people would know his relationship with the researcher was strictly professional. After all, she wasn’t at all like the type of woman he usually dated.

You’ve been wasting your time with women who are completely wrong for you.

Maybe that was true, but he had no intention of looking for a different type of woman in the hope of meeting someone who was right for him, especially when he still didn’t believe he would—and didn’t want to—find one who was.

Anyway, there was no point in tempting fate—or gossip. Although he’d like to tell Megan about the birthday party, it was probably better if he simply took his coffee back to the office, as if he’d never seen her there.

Except that she looked up then, their eyes met across the room … and she looked away.

As if she didn’t even know him.

Or maybe as if she didn’t expect him to acknowledge that he knew her.

The thought niggled at his conscience, and he found himself carrying his cup toward the table at which she’d sat down.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, indicating the empty chair across from her.

“Um, sure. I mean, no, I don’t mind.” She dropped her gaze and lifted her cup to her mouth.

Gage sat down. “I’m Lucy’s favorite uncle this week.”

She looked up at that. “Your birthday gift was a hit?”

“My niece was over the moon with everything and anxious to put all of her new tools and toys to use.”

“All of?” she prompted.

He shrugged. “I had trouble narrowing down my selections, so I just bought everything you picked out.”

She smiled. “No wonder she was happy.”

“Her enthusiasm was dampened only slightly by her mother’s request that she wait for the backyard to dry out a little before she tramped through the muck, looking for specimens.”

“I guess you forgot the rubber boots.”

“I guess I did,” he agreed.

She smiled again, and he found his gaze shifting to her mouth.

She wore no color or gloss, but her lips—naturally pink and full—were somehow even more tempting without any enhancement.

Tempting? He gave himself a mental shake. Okay, so he’d realized he’d made some inaccurate assumptions about Megan, but he wasn’t—couldn’t possibly be—attracted to her.

Still, he couldn’t help but notice her great bone structure and creamy, flawless skin. Or that her hair wasn’t just blond but shot through with strands of flaxen and gold that glinted in the light. True, she had more angles than curves and he generally liked his women on the softer side, but she still had the most intriguing violet eyes he’d ever seen.

“Anyway,” he said, forcing his attention back to the topic at hand. “I owe you. And if there’s ever anything I can do for you—any way I could possibly repay you—you only have to ask.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. Really.”

“It was a really big deal,” he argued.

“I was glad to help.” She glanced at her watch. “But now I need to be getting back to work.”

“You’re entitled to a half-hour break and you haven’t been here half of that.”

“I want to finish a report I’m writing.”

“Is that the final report on Fedentropin?” he asked, referring to the drug she had helped develop for women suffering from endometriosis.

“How did you know?”

“I was talking to Dean Garrison this morning about possible timelines for the upcoming trial.”

Megan sat back down. “Is it going to start soon, then?”

“Within the next couple of months.”

“That’s great.”

“Garrison said you’ve been putting a lot of extra hours into the project.”

“It means a lot to me,” she admitted.

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that he wants you and me to coordinate the trial.”

“He told me he was going to make a recommendation,” she confessed, her voice tinged with both hope and excitement. “I didn’t know it was actually going to happen.”

Gage had been less than thrilled by the news himself.

Not that he had any objection to working with Megan. But he’d thought running the trial would have been a good opportunity to prove himself, to demonstrate that he had the requisite skills and experience to fill the V.P. position.

Learning that he would have to share the responsibilities was a disappointment, but maybe sharing it with Megan wouldn’t be so bad. And it would give him the perfect opportunity to get to know her better.

There were three messages on Megan’s answering machine when she got home Monday night. A quick glance at the call display confirmed that they were all from Paige. She punched the erase button without listening to them. No doubt they all said exactly the same thing as the e-mails she’d sent to Megan’s computer at work and the text messages to her cell phone.

Have you asked him yet?

She wasn’t ready to call her back. She didn’t want to admit to her cousin that she hadn’t—and wouldn’t—invite Gage to Ashley’s engagement party. Because as many reasons as she had for wanting to ask him to be her date, there were a lot more reasons not to ask. Most notably, her conviction that he would say no. Because once the question had been asked, it couldn’t be unasked. There could be no taking back the words or the embarrassment and humiliation she would inevitably feel when he declined the invitation.

And if there’s ever anything I can do for you, any way I could possibly repay you, you only have to ask.

Megan ignored the echo of Gage’s words in the back of her mind as she made her way into the kitchen to scrounge up something for dinner.

She was certain he hadn’t really meant them. It was just the kind of thing someone said to express appreciation. And if she did ask him for a favor in return—especially something so personal as to be her date for her sister’s engagement party—it would put both of them in an awkward position. Gage while he scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse for refusing, and Megan while she tried to pretend his response didn’t really matter.

Ashley came down the stairs, clothes neatly pressed, makeup freshly reapplied. Despite her outwardly casual appearance, Megan could see the tension in her eyes.

“Parent-teacher conferences tonight,” she suddenly remembered.

Her sister nodded. “I love the kids—it’s the parents I sometimes wish I could sit in the corners for a time-out.”

“They’ll love you,” she assured her, kissing Ashley’s cheek. “They always do.”

“Not always. But thanks for the vote of confidence.” She swung her tote bag over her shoulder. “By the way, Paige has been trying to get in touch with you.”

“Yeah, I got a dozen or so messages along that line.”

“She wanted to let you know that she’s booked pedicures for two o’clock on Saturday.”

“She always did fight dirty,” Megan grumbled.

“As only someone who truly knows and loves you can do.”

“I won’t be bribed or blackmailed,” she said decisively. “I’ll call Gia and make my own appointment.”

“Good luck. Apparently Paige booked the entire spa for the whole afternoon. If you want an appointment, you’ll have to get a date.”

“I hate her.”

Ashley laughed as she made her way to the door. “She outmaneuvered you on this one but, if you stopped being mad at her for two minutes, you might realize this is a win-win situation.”

Or Megan could lose the bet, her pride and her heart. And that was a risk she had vowed never to take again.

Gage went for lunch with his dad and his brother on Thursday, as they tried to do at least once a month. Sometimes they chatted about business, sometimes about nothing in particular, but always it was a time the three men enjoyed together.

“I’m glad to see you’re taking my advice,” Allan said, as he stirred cream into his coffee.

“About?”

“Finding a nice young woman. A different kind of woman.”

Gage frowned, wondering what his father was talking about. Only a few days had passed since he’d learned about Garrison’s retirement and his father’s conviction that he could prove his maturity by settling down, and he hadn’t been out with anyone since then. In fact, aside from having coffee with Megan.

He glanced at his brother, who lifted his shoulder in silent apology. “I happened to mention that I saw you and Megan Roarke in the cafeteria the other day.”

“A lovely girl,” Allan interjected. “Not your usual type, which is why I was so surprised when Craig told me.”

Told him what? Gage wondered, starting to feel more than a little bit uncomfortable with the implications of his father’s words. He looked to his brother for help, but Craig was focused on his cheesecake—or maybe just focused on avoiding Gage’s silent plea for help.

“And I’ll admit to some initial concern about your working relationship,” Allan continued. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized she’s exactly the type of woman you need—”

His father thought Megan was the type of woman he needed? Gage wasn’t just uncomfortable now, he was completely baffled. Where would he ever get such an idea? How had his usually rational father made the hugely irrational leap from a cafeteria meeting to a personal relationship?

“—and I trust that you will both continue to behave professionally in the lab.”

There were so many assumptions in his statement that Gage wasn’t sure where to begin to refute them, so he only said, “I think you’re reading too much into a cup of coffee.”

“Am I?” Allan sounded disappointed.

Again, Gage looked at Craig, but his brother remained intent on finishing his dessert, leaving him to fend for himself. Or maybe Craig also believed that Gage was involved with Megan.

Gage frowned over this thought as he considered his response to his father’s question. The last thing he wanted was to have yet another dialogue with his father about his dating habits, but he had to correct his mistaken assumption about his relationship with Megan.

Or did he?

He mulled over that question as he sipped his own coffee.

Maybe if his dad believed Gage was seeing Megan, a woman he obviously approved of, Allan would be more willing to support him in his bid for the V.P. position. And it wasn’t entirely untrue, since they would be seeing a lot of one another while they were working on the Fedentropin trial together.

“It’s just that it’s kind of, uh, premature to talk about where things might go with Megan and I,” Gage said.

His father nodded. “The beginning of a new relationship can be difficult enough without the pressure of any extra scrutiny.”

Gage didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Thanks for understanding.”

“But I know your mother would love to meet her, whenever you’re ready,” Allan continued.

Craig pushed his now-empty plate aside.

“I’ll let you know,” Gage told his father, even as he wondered, What have I gotten myself into now?

By Thursday afternoon, two days before Ashley’s engagement party, Paige still hadn’t let up in her campaign to convince Megan to invite Gage to the big event. By then, Megan was sure she’d waited too long. There was no way he didn’t already have plans for Saturday night. Men like Gage Richmond always had Saturday-night plans.

So when he returned to the lab after his lunch, she decided to broach the subject in the hope that finally doing so might convince Paige to let her have the spa appointment she’d made.

He glanced up when she approached his desk, and she saw surprise—then something else that she thought might have been pleasure—flicker in his eyes. Then he smiled, and her heart leaped and her knees quivered, and she knew this was a bad idea. Definitely a very bad idea.

“Hi, Megan.”

As much as she was tempted to turn around and walk away, she knew she had to see this through. She forced a smile, considered her words. She’d never been very good with chit-chat and was too nervous to waste time on idle chatter anyway, so she simply blurted out, “Do you remember saying that if I ever needed a favor, I could come to you?”

“Sure,” Gage agreed easily.

“Well, I need a favor.”

He smiled. “I got that part. What do you need?”

She drew a deep breath. “A date.”

He raised his eyebrows. “For what? When?”

“My sister’s engagement party. Saturday night.”

He didn’t blink at the mention of an engagement party, the type of occasion that would make most men—especially those of only casual acquaintance—balk. All he said was, “This Saturday?”

She nodded. “I know it’s short notice and I’m sure you already have plans but—”

“What time should I pick you up?” he interrupted.

She stared at him. Blinked.

He waited patiently, that sexy half smile on his face, while she scrambled to unscramble her brain and find her voice again.

“You want to go … with me?”

“Sure,” he said again.

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

If he was willing to be her date for Saturday night, who was she to try to talk him out of it?

“Time?” he prompted.

“Eight o’clock. At the country club. But I should probably be there a little earlier than that.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Great. That would be—um—great.” She was still a little baffled by his easy acceptance. “Thanks.”

She turned around and went back to her own work station, not entirely sure she comprehended what had just happened.

Apparently she had a date with Gage Richmond. She’d asked—and he’d said yes without any hesitation. In fact, he’d seemed almost eager to accept her invitation.

But why?

A woman with a genius IQ was smart enough to know that a man who hadn’t looked twice in her direction in the three years she’d worked at Richmond Pharmaceuticals wasn’t suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to spend time in her company. No, she was certain that Gage Richmond had an agenda. Men like him always did.

And despite the rather sheltered life she’d led, she had known men like him before. Men who were far too good-looking, too charming and too self-confident for a woman like her to stand a chance.

She’d been taken in by seductive eyes and sexy smiles before and wouldn’t fall easily again. Of course, the first time had been when she was only in high school and assigned as a lab partner to the captain of the football team. On the first day of class, Darrin Walsh had given her a slow, bone-melting smile that had made her his willing slave—then he went on to flirt with the cheerleaders while she wrote up his reports.

She’d learned her lesson from that—or so she’d thought until she’d fallen head over heels in college. Sam Meyer had been another teaching assistant in the biochemistry department, and the first man she’d really thought understood her hopes and dreams—until he stole one of her research papers and tried to pass it off as his own. He’d been expelled and she’d vowed never to trust her fickle heart again.

Then came Bill Penske. He’d been more her type—a little shy, a little geeky, a lot inexperienced. He’d been her first lover, and she’d been his. The event had been so uninspiring that Megan hadn’t found herself wanting to do it again. They’d parted ways only a few weeks later.

She was older now, and wiser, and though she’d dated casually and infrequently since then, she knew that she was still completely out of her league with a man like Gage Richmond.

But whatever his agenda, she could hardly object when she had one of her own.

She only hoped she wouldn’t regret it.

Chapter Four

I have a date.

It was the first thought on Megan’s mind when she woke up Saturday morning, and one that immediately caused a full-scale panic.

Because she didn’t just have a date—she had a date with Gage Richmond. Her boss’s son. Heir to a pharmaceutical empire. And the most spectacular-looking man she’d ever met.

Megan groaned aloud as the full impact of what she’d done finally hit her. Who did she think she was kidding? Anyone who saw the two of them together would know that Gage was doing her a favor.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Ashley pushed open the curtains so that sunlight spilled through the window. “We’ve got things to do today.”

Megan pulled the covers up over her head. “I changed my mind.”

“You can’t change your mind.”

“I’m sick.”

Ashley yanked back the covers and touched the back of her hand to her sister’s forehead. “Lying fibberitis?” she guessed.

Megan stuck her tongue out at her.

“Immature lying fibberitis,” Ashley amended her diagnosis.

“I feel clammy and weak. My stomach is in knots and my heart is pounding.”

“Those are signs of anticipation, not a viral infection.”

“Remember you said that when I throw up on you.”

“You’re not going to throw up.”

“I really don’t want to do this.”

“I really don’t care,” Ashley said unsympathetically, tossing a pair of jeans and a blouse onto her sister’s bed. “Get dressed—we’re meeting Paige for brunch and some shopping before our appointment at Gia’s.”

“I don’t want to go for brunch. I hate shopping. And I love you, Ashley, but I really don’t want to go to your engagement party.”

“You want to go,” Ashley insisted. “You want everyone who ever dared pity you for being alone to see you with Gage, but you’re afraid that he won’t show up so you’re pretending to be sick so that you can cancel before he has a chance to stand you up.”

It was such an accurate assessment of everything she was feeling that Megan could only stare. “How do you know these things?”

“Because I’m your sister and, believe it or not, everything that you’re feeling is completely normal.”

“Maybe he won’t show.”

“He’ll be here.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s a good guy. Thoughtful. Solid. Dependable.”

“You got all of that from a five-minute conversation on the doorstep?”

“An initial impression that was reinforced by our telephone conversation this morning.”

“He called you?”

“I think he was actually calling you,” Ashley explained. “But when I told him you were still sleeping, he settled for talking to me.”

“Was he calling to cancel?”

“No, he was calling to see if the party was black tie.”

“Is it?”

Ashley smiled. “No. But I was impressed that he would think to ask, that it would matter to him to be appropriately dressed for his first date with you.”

“First and last,” Megan mumbled.

“Give him a chance.”

“Come on, Ash. You know it’s not him, it’s me. I get nervous and I don’t know what to say. Or, worse, I start talking about work, because it’s the only thing I’m comfortable talking about. After a half an hour in my company, he’ll be looking for excuses to head for the door.”

“Just give him a chance,” her sister said again.

She sighed. She could give him a chance, but she could not—would not—give him her heart.

Megan, Ashley and Paige had certain traditions. Every month they met on the first Friday for a girls’ night and on the third Sunday for brunch. Saturday get-togethers were less structured and less frequent, but Ashley had a complete agenda for the day of her engagement party.

The morning started with breakfast at Michelynne’s, a little café tucked amidst the trendy bistros and exclusive boutiques of the village—which would be their after-breakfast shopping destination.

If Megan’s retail anxiety and fear of crowds combined to make her hyperventilate in the parking lot of the mall, as had occasionally happened, she was ten times more apprehensive about “Shopping on Rockton” as the banners attached to the decorative streetlamps encouraged passersby to do. So there was absolutely no way she was venturing into that labyrinth filled with anorexic salesgirls, whose glossy smiles were as fake as their silicone breasts—at least not on an empty stomach.

Paige had already secured a table and was sipping an oversize cup of café au lait when Megan and Ashley arrived.

The hostess, who escorted them to their table and handed out the menus, asked if they wanted coffee. Before Megan could respond in the affirmative, Ashley shook her head and said, “Mimosas all around.”

Megan arched a brow but made no protest. If she was going to get through this day, including shopping, the spa and her date with Gage, a little bit of alcohol might be just what she needed to blunt the edge of her ever-increasing anxiety.

“Since we’re having champagne—in celebration of the occasion of your engagement party, I presume,” Paige said to Ashley, raising her glass, “I would like to propose a toast to the bride-to-be and to happy endings.”

“And to happy beginnings,” Ashley added, with a pointed look in her sister’s direction.

Megan tapped her glass to the others.

“And to getting through the next twelve hours without throwing up,” she added.

Paige laughed; Ashley just shook her head.

While they sipped their mimosas and ate Belgian waffles piled high with fresh fruit and mounds of whipped cream, they chatted about inconsequential topics. Or maybe it was only Megan who thought the topics were inconsequential, as Paige seemed to carefully consider everything Ashley said about her search for the perfect bridesmaid dresses while she tried not to think about her upcoming date with Gage Richmond.

Gage had a date.

While that fact in and of itself wasn’t unusual, he was having second thoughts about this one. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say he was having second thoughts about his reasons for accompanying Megan to her sister’s engagement party.

He liked his colleague well enough, and he certainly admired her intelligence, but he wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to be her date for the evening. He wanted to believe it was simply because she’d asked, or maybe because he really did owe her a favor for helping him shop for Lucy’s birthday gift.

But if he was honest with himself, as he usually tried to be, he would admit that his willing acceptance of her invitation had been—at least partly—motivated by a desire to perpetuate his father’s mistaken belief that he was dating Megan. And since tonight was a date, that belief would no longer be mistaken.

Except that, from Megan’s perspective, it wasn’t a date but a favor.

He was frowning over that when the phone rang.

The frown immediately turned into a smile when he heard Grace Richmond’s voice on the line.

Since his biological mother had walked out on her husband and kids when Gage was still a baby, and disappeared from his life entirely only a few years later, Grace was the only mother he’d ever really known. His earliest memories were of Grace, her gentle smile and warm hugs.

It was Grace who had read him bedtime stories, who had taken him to his first day of kindergarten, and who had sat in the emergency room with him when he’d needed seven stitches to close the gash in his knee after he’d slipped on a pile of rocks that she’d warned him against climbing on in the first place and never said “I told you so”.

She was the one woman—the only woman—he’d always been able to count on. The only woman he’d ever really loved.

He thought fleetingly of Beth, and of feelings that had been just as transitory. The lessons he’d learned from that relationship, however, had not been easily forgotten.

“Craig and Tess and the kids are coming over for dinner tonight,” Grace told him. “And I thought you might like to join us.”

“You know I’d never turn down a free meal,” Gage said. “Unless I had other plans.”

“You’re saying you do?” she guessed.

“A date,” he confirmed, wondering again why this date seemed different from so many others, and why he felt such a strong pull toward Megan when she was so different from any other woman he’d ever dated.

Grace paused a moment, then asked, “With the flight attendant?”

“Flight attendant? Oh, Carol-Ann,” he remembered, thinking back. “No. I haven’t seen her in at least five months.”

Though she didn’t say so, he knew she wasn’t disappointed by the news. Grace had met Carol-Ann only once, at a fundraising event for the new Pinehurst Library, and had never—until now—asked about her again.

“You’re seeing someone new?” she prompted.

“I’m not sure this one date will lead to anything more than that,” he said, still uncertain as to whether he hoped it would or wouldn’t.

For her part, Megan didn’t seem to have any expectations about the evening ahead. In fact, when she’d invited him to the party, he’d got the impression that she expected him to refuse. Maybe she’d even wanted him to refuse. But if that was the case, why had she even invited him?

“Is she a vegetarian?” Grace’s question interrupted his speculation.

“I have no idea.”

“Because if she’s not, your father’s grilling steaks tonight if you wanted to bring her by—”

“—so that you can grill her?” Gage guessed.

“So that your dad and I can meet her,” she chided.

Though he knew it was dangerous to give his mother too much information, he couldn’t resist baiting her, just a little. “Dad’s already met her,” he said. “In fact, he’s known her longer than I have.”

“Then it’s someone from work.”

“You can think whatever you want,” Gage said, unable to deny it.

“Megan Roarke,” she guessed.

He scowled. “How did you come up with that name?”

“Your dad told me about her. He said you were going to be working on a big project together, but he didn’t mention that you were dating her.”

Gage knew that if she could see him, she would undoubtedly see that he was squirming inside because that one little white lie had taken on a life of its own. Or maybe because a brief flash of attraction seemed to be growing into something more.

“Don’t go reading too much into anything,” he said. “It’s just one date.”

“What are your plans for this date?”

“We’re going to a party,” he admitted.

“A party?”

He gave in, because he knew she wouldn’t give up and he simply couldn’t lie to her. “It’s Megan’s sister’s engagement party.”

“Oh. Well.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s quite a first date.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asked innocently.

“Read anything into it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, though the amusement in her tone belied the words. “But I should let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for your engagement party.”

“It’s not my engagement party.”

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

Gage wondered if her words were a promise or a threat.

More, he wondered why he’d told her as much as he had.

Had he wanted her to know about his date with Megan, so that she could pass on the information to his father, further promoting the idea that he was in a relationship with this woman? Or because he was actually interested in Megan and suspected that his mother would be meeting her sometime soon?

Because he didn’t know the answers to these questions, he pushed them aside to get ready for his date.

As the minutes ticked closer and closer to seven o’clock, Megan grew more and more certain that the night was going to be a disaster.

“Relax. It’s not going to be a disaster,” Paige said.

Megan frowned. “Did I say that out loud?”

Her cousin laughed. “No, but I know the way your mind works—and despite the exquisite job Gia did with your makeup, your face is pale and you’re clenching your jaw.”

“What if he doesn’t show up?”

“He’ll be here.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not Darrin.”

“Thanks for that reminder,” she muttered sarcastically.

“As if your mind wasn’t already spinning in that direction.”

Megan refused to acknowledge that fact, because doing so would be to admit that she’d never fully gotten over the humiliation of being invited to the prom by a guy who never showed up.

“Gage will be here,” Paige said again. “Which means that we need to get you into your dress.”

“That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? Because Ashley’s afraid that I might duck and run.”

“Your sister knows you would never let her down,” her cousin said, the pointed tone bringing a guilty flush to Megan’s cheeks. “And I know that everyone gets a little nervous before a first date sometimes.”

“Speaking of dates.” Megan opened the closet to reach for her dress. “Is Josh picking you up here?”

Paige shook her head. “No, Ben is meeting me at the party.”

“What happened to Josh?”

“Nothing happened to him. We still go out occasionally, but we’ve never had an exclusive arrangement.” She dangled a pink bag in front of her cousin’s nose. “These go on before the dress.”

She snatched the bag with a sigh. “I don’t know why you and Ashley worried about finding the right bra for my dress. It’s not like anyone would notice even if I wasn’t wearing one.”

“True. But it’s not a bra, it’s a bustier, and believe me, it will make everyone take notice,” Paige promised.

Megan had never liked being the focus of attention and her cousin’s response only made her more wary, but she shrugged out of her robe and, with Paige’s assistance, into the black satin-and-lace undergarments her sister had carefully picked out for her.

“Now the dress,” Paige said.

Megan wriggled into it.

“And the shoes.”

She dutifully shoved her feet into the skyscraper-high heels—

“Jewelry.”

—and added the chunky, silver earrings and necklace that Ann-Marie had picked out for her. The long chain meant that the teardrop-shaped pendant nestled in the hollow between her breasts, and when Megan glanced down at it, she was stunned.

“I have cleavage.”

“Not much,” Paige teased, “but some.”

Megan turned to face the floor-length mirror that she rarely bothered to glance into and stared at her reflection. If not for the shell-shocked expression on the professionally made-up face that so perfectly depicted her feelings, she might have believed she was looking at a stranger.

The deep square neckline that had looked so simple and unassuming when she’d tried it on in the store now highlighted the swell of breasts she hadn’t even realized she had. And the A-line, knee-length skirt showed off a lot of leg that, with the help of the three-inch heels, somehow looked more shapely than skinny.

Megan’s hand went instinctively to the low neckline of the dress. “I can’t go out in public looking like this.”

Paige lifted a brow. “Like a beautiful, desirable woman?”

It wasn’t such a stretch, Megan realized now, for someone to make that assumption. But she knew the truth, and the escalating panic inside of her confirmed it. “I can’t,” she said again. “It’s not me.”

“It is you,” her cousin insisted. “Only dressed up a little on the outside.”

Dressed up beyond recognition was more like it, but before she could say anything else, the doorbell chimed.

“That will be Gage,” Paige guessed.

“Can you get it?” Megan pleaded with her. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Paige caught her arm as she turned toward the bathroom. “You’re not going to throw up,” she said firmly. “Now take a deep breath and go meet your date.”

Megan went to the door, grumbling the whole way, and while her stomach was still in knots, the sound of the doorbell had caused them to loosen somewhat. No matter what other surprises or disasters the night might hold, at least he had shown up.

She took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

Gage was reaching forward to jab the button again when the door swung open. His lips started to curve in an automatic smile, then froze at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Megan?

The violet eyes confirmed her identity, even though they weren’t hidden behind thick-framed glasses any- more. That was the most immediately obvious change, but not the only one. Her hair was different, too. Instead of being confined in the usual braid or ponytail, her long tresses had been fashioned into some kind of fancy twist, with a few strands left loose and curled to frame her face.

And how had he never noticed that she had such stunning features? Not just those fabulous eyes, but cheekbones that any cover model would die for and lips that made a man think of long, slow, deep kisses.

Then his gaze dipped lower, and his jaw nearly dropped when he realized that the dress she wore showcased curves that she’d kept well hidden beneath the boxy lab coats she wore at work. And the sexy heels made her mile-long legs look even longer.

When Gage had agreed to be Megan’s date for tonight, he’d been prepared to go through the motions. He hadn’t been prepared for the woman standing in front of him.

“Gage?” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. A lip that was slicked with glossy color that brought to mind thoughts of a sun-ripened peach, making his mouth water. “Is something wrong?”

“No, um, nothing. It’s just … I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” Against his will, his gaze drifted downward again.

“It’s a push-up bra,” she blurted out the explanation, then crossed her arms over her chest as her cheeks flooded with color.

But instead of hiding her newly revealed assets, the action only succeeded in pushing her breasts up farther, closer to the neckline, and enhancing his view. With great reluctance, he tore his gaze away.

“It, uh, they, I mean, you look great,” he finally man- aged, and offered her the bouquet of purple tulips he’d kept concealed behind his back.

“You brought me flowers.” He saw both surprise and pleasure in her eyes, heard them in her voice and wondered whether anyone had ever given her flowers before.

Gage shrugged. “I was walking by the florist and, when I saw them in the window, I thought of you.”

“I love tulips, and these are beautiful.” She uncrossed her arms and took the bouquet carefully, almost tentatively. “Thanks. I’ll just go put them in some water.”

He followed her inside, watched as she went through the routine of finding a vase, filling it with water, and arranging the flowers. It was a routine he’d watched dozens of women perform before, but he’d never seen anyone take such genuine pleasure in the task, find such joy in a simple gesture. Heck, a lot of the women he’d dated would have turned their noses up at the simple flowers because they weren’t imported orchids or exotic calla lilies, and he was pleased that he’d gone with his instinct and bought the tulips.

Of course, his instincts now were pushing him in a whole different direction—toward the new and stunningly sexy Megan Roarke—but he managed to hold them in check. And if he couldn’t help noticing how the skirt that hugged the sweet curve of her backside inched up a little as she leaned over to set the vase in the middle of the table, well, he was only human.

“I guess we should be going now,” she said.

He yanked his mind back to the present. “Do you have a coat?”

She went to the closet, slid open the door.

Gage took the garment from her, holding it while she slipped the first arm in. As she turned to reach for the other sleeve, the side of her breast brushed his hand, and somehow that fleeting contact sent his blood humming.

He headed to the door, wondering and worrying about what other surprises the night might hold.

Chapter Five

Megan was feeling pretty good when Gage pulled into the long, winding driveway of the country club. The fact that the first awkward moments had passed allowed her to hope that the evening might not be a complete disaster. A feeling that dissipated with every step they took toward the doors.

Ashley had insisted that she wanted the engagement party to be an intimate gathering of family and close friends, but somehow the guest list had swelled so that nearly sixty people were expected to attend. And the number of cars in the parking lot suggested that most of them were already there.

The valet gave Gage a ticket, which he tucked into his pocket before reaching for Megan’s hand, linking his warm fingers with her icy ones.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“It’s silly, I know, but—” she halted at the bottom of the steps”—this is probably a very bad idea. You’ve done nothing to deserve being subjected to my family.”

“I’ve met your sister and your cousin,” he reminded her. “They didn’t seem so bad.”

“They’re mostly harmless,” she agreed. “I can’t say the same about everyone else.”

“Every family tree has some baboons hanging from it.”

She smiled at the analogy, but her smile faded when he tugged on her hand, leading her closer to the elaborately carved doors at the entrance.

“I’ve never brought a date to one of these events before,” she felt compelled to confess.

“And you’re worried that all your aunts, uncles and cousins will make a big deal out of the fact that you’ve brought one this time?”

She nodded.

“So why did you ask me to come?”

Because he sounded more curious than concerned, she answered honestly, “Because Paige dared me.”

His smile was wry. “That hissing sound you hear is my ego deflating.”

Her lips curved, just a little, as she shrugged. “I never expected that you would say yes.”

“Are you sorry that I did?”

“No, but you might regret it.”

He squared his shoulders. “You don’t think I can handle your crazy uncle Wally?”

“As a matter of fact, I do have an uncle Wally,” she told him. “But he lives in Canada. It’s my great-aunt Vivian you need to watch out for.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Gage said, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Now let’s join the party.”

They were on their way to do just that after checking their coats when a cool voice said, “Excuse me, but the upstairs banquet room is closed for a private event.”

Maybe she should have been flattered rather than annoyed that she hadn’t been recognized, but annoyance won out, as it too often did when it came to dealing with members of Megan’s family. “I know. It’s my sister’s engagement party.”

The older woman’s eyes popped wide-open and her mouth snapped shut. “Meg?”

“Yes, it’s me, Aunt Viv.” She dutifully kissed her aunt’s dry, papery cheek.

“But where are your glasses?” Her gaze skimmed over her niece with obvious disapproval. “And your clothes?” Then shifted to Gage. “And who is this?”

And so it begins, Megan thought, but managed to hold back her sigh.

“This is Gage Richmond,” she said. Then, to Gage, “My great-aunt, Vivian Roarke.”

“Richmond,” she said, and narrowed her gaze. “As in Pharmaceuticals?”

Before Gage could respond, Lillian glided down the stairs in a cloud of flowing silk and sweet perfume.

“There you are, Megan.” Lillian smiled at her daughter. “Your sister was just wondering what was keeping you.”

Megan couldn’t remember ever having been so grateful for her mother’s interruption, despite the subtle censure in her statement.

Then her mother looked at Gage and smiled. “Although I think I’ve found the answer to that question.”

It wasn’t quite so easy to hold back her sigh this time. “Mom, this is Gage Richmond. Gage, my mother, Lillian.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Gage said.

“The pleasure is mine,” Lillian said. “And I’m so grateful you’re here with Megan this evening.”

It was an effort to keep the smile on her face, to pretend her mother’s comment hadn’t been a slap in the face.

Of course Lillian was grateful for Gage’s presence—it allowed her to pretend, at least for one night, that her daughter wasn’t a complete social misfit, who never had a date for family events.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Megan said, to no one in particular, “I’m going to find Ashley.”

Gage caught up with her at the top of the stairs. “You weren’t trying to abandon me down there, were you?”

“Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘every man for himself’?” she asked.

“Sure,” he agreed, reaching for her hand. “Except that tonight I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. Megan’s eyes widened and the pulse at the base of her throat jumped.

He hadn’t really thought about what he was doing, hadn’t intended to change the rules of their game, but suddenly, there was an awareness simmering between them that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it just hadn’t been acknowledged.

She swallowed. “All I need is a couple hours of your time.” Her gaze darted away from his, but not before he saw the nerves lurking beneath the surface. “And maybe a glass of wine.”

He could use a drink himself, and was grateful to see that there wasn’t much of a line at the bar. “Red or white?” he asked her.

“Oh. I didn’t mean—you don’t have to—”

“Red or white?” he asked again.

Her cheeks flushed. “Red.”

He gave her hand a friendly squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him make his way toward the bar, and wondered if she’d imagined the zing she’d felt when he held her hand, and the heat she’d seen in his eyes when they’d locked on hers.

She saw her cousin Camilla in line in front of Gage, and she turned slightly to speak to him, smiling flirtatiously and laughing at whatever he’d said in response.

Yes, she’d definitely imagined it, because Gage Richmond couldn’t possibly be attracted to her—not when a woman like Camilla was around.

When the bartender gave Camilla her drink, she fluttered her fingertips at Gage before moving away.

“You can thank me later.”

Megan turned to Paige. “For what?”

“The fact that you got a pedicure and a gorgeous date for the evening.”

“You made sure the former was contingent on the latter,” Megan reminded her. “But speaking of dates.?”

“Ben’s on his way,” Paige said. “He got caught up at the office.”

“On a Saturday?”

“He’s got an important deposition on Monday.”

“You’ve got to start dating men in another profession.”

“Where would I ever meet any?”

“You’re asking me?”

Paige glanced toward the bar again. “Hey, does Gage have a brother?”

“He does. Married.”

“Damn.”

Megan chuckled.

“Oh, double damn,” Paige muttered, and grabbed Megan’s arm. “Gage is in trouble.”

She turned and winced. Gage might have survived his encounter with cousin Camilla, but now Aunt Vivian had moved in. “If he comes back after a one-on-one with Aunt Viv instead of bolting for the door, I’ll be surprised.”

“Forget surprised,” Paige said. “I’d snap him up and never let him go.”

Megan shook her head regretfully, because she knew that wasn’t an option.

While he was waiting at the bar, Gage noticed that Megan’s cousin, Paige, had joined her, so he ordered a drink for her, too. And when he turned away with his hands full, he found himself confronted by Megan’s elderly aunt.

The older woman’s brightly painted lips curved. “Gage, wasn’t it? I was hoping we’d have a chance to chat.”

“Really?” he said. “About what?”

“Oh, I just wanted to make sure that Megan was taking good care of you.”

“I have no complaints,” he assured her.

“Has she introduced you to my granddaughter, Camilla?” Vivian nodded in the direction of the attractive blonde who’d chatted him up while he was waiting in line, and whom he’d noticed had guzzled down her gin and tonic like it was water.

“No, but we met,” he told her.

“I was so pleased to see her here tonight,” she confided. “I was so worried that she wouldn’t want to come, since she just broke up with her boyfriend.”

She paused, as if to give him a chance to respond. Since he had no idea what kind of response was appropriate, he remained silent.

“He was a college professor,” the elderly woman continued. “It was a messy split, very unfortunate. But I’m sure she’ll find someone else.

“She’s a lovely girl—and smart. Graduated cum laude with a degree in art history from the Weinberg College of Arts & Sciences at Northwestern.”

He nodded politely. “Megan went to Northwestern, too, didn’t she?”

Vivian nodded, though her scowl warned that she didn’t appreciate the reminder.

Of course, she wouldn’t, because Gage knew that Megan had graduated summa cum laude with a master’s in science, which more than trumped Camilla’s accomplishment.

“Megan always had brains,” Vivian acknowledged, with more than a hint of reluctance. “That was apparent at an early age. And a good thing, too, because she was a homely child, and had no idea how to relate to other children her own age.”

Gage stared at her. “You do know that you’re talking about my date?”

She waved a hand. “As if anyone would believe a man like you could be seriously interested in Megan.”

“A man like me?”

“Handsome. Successful. Sophisticated.”

Rich.

Of course, she wasn’t crass enough to mention his financial status, but he’d seen the gleam in her eye when she’d caught his last name. A gleam that he’d seen in far too many eyes in his thirty-two years, but never in Megan’s. Whatever reasons she had for inviting him to be here tonight, it wasn’t because she had visions of landing a wealthy husband.

And as uncertain as he’d been about his reasons for agreeing to this “date” in the first place, he was enjoying being with Megan. Sure, she was more introverted than the women he usually dated, but once she’d started to open up, he found himself really enjoying her company.

She was kind and generous and insightful—and smart. He’d never concerned himself with a woman’s mind before. So long as his date was attractive and fun and knew that he wasn’t looking for anything long-term, she was his kind of woman.

Megan was different. She was attractive—a lot more so than he’d suspected. And it wasn’t just the mile-long legs or the unexpected curves put on display by the dress she was wearing. It was the capability of those slender shoulders, the strength in her delicate hands and the mystery of those stunning eyes.

“And Megan is beautiful, smart and talented,” he said, searching for—and finding her—across the room. “So why is it you think a man like me wouldn’t be interested in a woman like her?”

As if sensing his stare, Megan turned and caught his eye. Her lips curved, just a little, and something inside of him stirred, responded.

There was no longer any doubt in his mind that—if circumstances were different—she was a woman he could be interested in. But he had his eyes on a bigger prize and so he reminded himself that all he wanted from Megan was her cooperation with respect to his plan.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t all he wanted, but it was all he needed. And he wouldn’t let himself forget that.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Gage said, not caring whether she did or not, “I’d like to get back to my date.”

Megan and Gage found an empty table on the edge of the dance floor and settled in with their drinks. Paige came by to introduce her date when Ben finally arrived, and the four of them chatted for a while, but their conversation was continuously interrupted by friends and family who stopped by the table on the pretense of wanting to say hello to Megan.

But she knew the truth—they all wanted the scoop on Gage. And while she knew she’d brought this on herself by inviting him, she decided she’d rather be thought of as “poor lonely Megan” than attract this kind of unwanted attention.

But Gage was a good sport about it. And he had the grace to pretend he was oblivious when other women tried to flirt with him—while Megan was sitting right beside him. Of course, that only proved what she already knew, that no one believed he could be seriously interested in her.

So lost was she in these thoughts that she jolted when he put a hand on her arm.

“Do you want to dance?”

She hadn’t realized the band had begun to play until he asked, and as tempted as she was by the desire to be held in his arms, her desire to fade in the background was still stronger. “I’d rather not.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Then think of it as practice.” He pushed back his chair. “Because you’ll have to dance at the wedding.”

“I really don’t—” From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother moving in their direction. With a resigned sigh, Megan took his proffered hand and rose to her feet.

He smiled. “You were saying?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a better offer,” she ad-libbed.

The sparkle in his eye told her that he knew exactly why she’d changed her mind, but he made no further comment.

Gage was a great dancer, which didn’t surprise Megan in the least. She imagined that anything Gage Richmond chose to do, he did well.

It made her wonder—if only for a moment—what it would be like to make love with him. No doubt he would be very, very good at that, but she quickly shoved that fantasy aside before it had a chance to go any further.

“Relax.” Gage murmured the word close to her ear. “Block out everything else but the sound of the music.”

His breath was warm on her cheek, his tone soothing. But Megan could barely hear the music over the pounding of her heart, the rush of the blood in her veins.

“I’m not very comfortable in crowds,” she said, because it was true and because it was easier to admit that than to reveal that every nerve ending in her body was on high alert because of him.

“Forget the crowd,” he told her. “There’s just you and me.”

If he was trying to get her to relax, that certainly wasn’t going to do it.

Conversation, she decided, would be safer than letting her imagination run wild.

“I got the memo about the staff meeting on Monday,” she said.

“No shoptalk on a date,” Gage chided gently.

She frowned. “Then what are we supposed to talk about?”

“Anything but work.”

Which was easy to say, but Megan didn’t really know how to talk about anything else. “So, how about those Yankees?”

Gage chuckled.

“What?”

“It’s the beginning of March.”

“So?”

“They’re still in spring training in Florida.”

“Oh.”

“And anyway, I’m a BoSox fan.”

“Really?”

“Five years at Harvard made an impression,” he told her. “Which makes baseball a taboo subject at family dinners.”

“Your dad and your brother are both Yankees fans?” she guessed.

“They are,” he agreed. “But neither of them are as devoted as my sister-in-law.”

“So what do you talk about at family dinners?” she wondered.

“Anything else. Although with four kids around the table, any kind of conversation can be difficult.”

“It sounds like you’re close to your family.”

“Aren’t you?”

She considered the question for a moment before responding. “To my sister, yes. And Paige is like a second sister. But my mom?” She shook her head. “We just seem to have different ideas about everything. In particular, she’s never understood why I believe my work is more important than finding a husband.”

“I get the same thing from my family. Not that they want me to find a husband—” he grinned”—but they do think I would benefit from settling down.”

She was surprised that he was telling her this. Then she realized that he was telling her because she was safe, because she didn’t have any illusions that he was talking about settling down with her.

“What do you think?” she asked him.

“I don’t think I’m the settling type,” he told her. “Although my father insists that I just haven’t been dating the right kind of woman.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed there was a kind you’d missed.”

She dropped her head, mortified by what she’d just said.

But Gage only chuckled as he led her off of the dance floor when the song finished. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” he refuted, clearly unoffended. “And it’s okay. I have dated a lot of women.”

“I was surprised you didn’t already have plans when I asked you to come here tonight,” she admitted.

He shrugged as he drew her out onto the balcony. “I’ve taken a break from the social scene the last couple of months.”

“I guess the rumor mill has been kept busy recycling old news, then.”

“Of course, there will be all kinds of new gossip now that we’re an item.”

“We’re not.” she began, then realized he was teasing.

“Maybe we’re not,” he agreed. “But you don’t have to sound appalled at the prospect of having your name linked with mine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What did you mean?”

“Just that no one would ever believe we were a couple.”

He thought about what her aunt had said to him earlier, and her misguided matchmaking attempts. “You’re right. We definitely need to work on that.”

“How?”

“For starters, it would help if you didn’t freeze up every time I touched you,” Gage told her. “Just relax.”

“Relax? Around those people?”

He smiled. “I don’t think your family is the biggest problem.”

“That’s because they’re not your family,” she muttered.

He settled his hands on her shoulders.

She stilled, every muscle in her body going rigid.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said.

“What?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

He tugged her closer.

Her heart pounded harder.

He dipped his head and whispered close to her ear.

“You could at least pretend you’re happy to be alone with me.”

Happy was hardly the word she would use to describe how she was feeling. Surprised. Confused. Aroused. Oh, yeah, definitely aroused.

What was it about this man that sent her hormones rocketing like Fourth of July firecrackers? And all he’d done was put his hands on her shoulders. Okay, his hands were moving now, stroking down her arms, and slowly upward again, sending tingles through her whole body.

“Except that we’re not entirely alone,” he admitted softly.

“What?” She knew it was his proximity that was wreaking havoc with her ability to concentrate on his words, the tantalizing scent of him teasing her nostrils, taunting her hormones.

“Your cousin Camilla. She’s standing next to that potted palm beside the door, pretending not to watch us.”

“That sounds like something she would do,” Megan admitted, more than a little irritated that her cousin was lurking in the shadows, probably waiting to catch Gage alone so she could hit on him.

“Maybe we should give her something to talk about.” He lowered his head toward her.

“I appreciate what you’re doing,” she said. “But I think—”

“Stop thinking,” he said, and brushed his lips gently against hers.

So gently, and so briefly, that Megan wasn’t sure the contact had even happened.

“Just for two minutes,” he said, “stop thinking, stop worrying about your family and concentrate on this.”

Then he kissed her again—and she melted like the chocolate fondue on the dessert table.

She’d been kissed before. She’d been touched and groped and she’d had sex. She might not be a woman of vast experience, but she wasn’t innocent. At least, she hadn’t thought so.

But she’d never been kissed like Gage was kissing her.

She could taste the beer he’d drank, and something else—an elemental male flavor that went straight to her bloodstream and made her head spin and her knees tremble.

Then his hands slipped around her waist, drew her nearer. She could feel the heat and strength of his palms even through the fabric of her dress, and she found herself wondering how they would feel on her bare skin. Even knowing it was a fantasy that could never come true didn’t stop her from thinking about it, wanting it, wanting him.

Her lips parted on a sigh, and his tongue dipped inside. A lazy stroke, gently teasing, hotly tempting.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t be doing this. She certainly shouldn’t be pouring her heart and her soul into a kiss that wasn’t intended to mean anything. Or maybe it was just long-dormant hormones reawakened. Whatever the reason, Megan was helpless to resist the seduction of his kiss.

She felt as if she was drunk on champagne, though she’d only had a single glass of wine. Her heart was pounding, her blood was pulsing and her body was filled with a yearning she didn’t think she’d ever experienced before.

His hands slid slowly up her back, then down again.

It had been so long since she’d had a man’s hands on her, and Gage’s felt good, so good.

And then his hands stopped moving and his lips eased away from her.

“Well, that should give your cousin something to think about.”

Cousin?

Megan blinked the clouds from her eyes.

Right. He’d kissed her because he knew Camilla was watching them, because he was helping her fool her family into believing they were really a couple. But for a minute there, it had seemed so real, so perfect. And she should have known it was too perfect to be real.

She took a step back, giving herself some physical space while she drew in a deep breath and reined in her rampant hormones.

Thank goodness it was only an act—she wouldn’t stand a hope of resisting him if he ever truly turned his attentions in her direction.

“Meg?”

She pushed those thoughts aside and turned her attention back to her date.

“Are you ready to go back inside?” he asked.

She managed a smile. “Sure.”

Gage was careful not to touch Megan as he followed her back into the dining room, careful to remind himself that the kiss was just for show. A calculated move to convince Megan’s nosy cousin to mind her own business. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. And it sure as hell wasn’t supposed to leave him wanting a lot more.

But looking at her now, at her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, he couldn’t deny the want and hunger that stirred inside of him. Completely unexpected—and undeniably real.

“I seem to recall something being said about food,” he commented, as if the ache in his belly could be assuaged by some crackers and brie.

“Hot and cold hors d’oeuvres,” Megan said, glancing over at the crowd around the buffet table. “Or we could skip out and go somewhere else to grab a burger and fries.”

He smiled at the hopeful tone in her voice. “What would your sister say about you skipping out?”

“It’s not like I would tell her.”

“Don’t you think she’d notice?”

She sighed. “Yeah, Ashley probably would.”

He heard what she didn’t say—Ashley would notice but no one else would.

She was obviously used to being overlooked, ignored. And he suspected that she might even prefer it that way. Still, it had to rankle a little that most of her family seemed to think she was below their notice. It certainly rankled him on her behalf.

He frowned at that, recognizing that he was venturing into dangerous territory with Megan. Or maybe it wasn’t dangerous territory at all. Maybe the urge to protect her from the criticisms and insensitivity of her family was similar to what a brother would feel for his sister.

Not having a sister, he couldn’t say for sure. But he did know that he would never have kissed a sister the way he’d kissed Megan. And he wouldn’t be thinking about kissing her again, wanting to devour the softest, sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted. No, it definitely wasn’t a brotherly thing, and he had no idea how to handle this new and unexpected complication.

He took a plate and began piling it with fancy little appetizers that were more likely to whet than satisfy his appetite. But it was safer to stay here, surrounded by Megan’s family and friends, than to be alone with her right now. “I’ll take a rain check on the burger, if that’s okay.”

Megan was silent as she studied the display of coconut shrimp. Or maybe she was silent because Vivian had joined the line at the buffet table and she didn’t want her elderly aunt overhearing their conversation—a suspicion that proved true when they were seated and she finally responded to his question.

“I appreciate that you’re here with me,” she said. “But we both know that you only agreed to come because you felt as if you owed me a favor. Now you don’t.”

“And your point?” he prompted, popping a stuffed mushroom in his mouth.

“My point—” she swirled a carrot stick in the dip she’d spooned onto the edge of her plate”—is that there’s no reason to talk about rain checks because there’s no reason for us to ever see one another outside of the lab again.”

“What if I want to see you again?”

She bit off the end of the carrot, then stared at him, clearly baffled by the possibility. And he found himself again mesmerized by those wide, violet eyes.

She chewed, swallowed, then finally asked, “Why would you?”

He fought against a smile. “Forgetting the why for a moment, it seems that I do.”

She considered that while she nibbled on the rest of her carrot stick.

“I’m not easy,” she told him. “Despite the way I wrapped myself around you on the terrace, I’m not going to sleep with you.”

He’d never known a woman who just blurted out what she was thinking the way that Megan did. After dating so many women who played mind games or worked personal agendas, her forthrightness was refreshing—and only one of the things he was beginning to like about her.

“I’d say the wrapping was mutual, and while I certainly wouldn’t object to more of the same, it wasn’t my plan to take you to bed.”

Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from thinking along those lines when her body was pressed against his, but the fact that they worked together complicated the situation immeasurably. Not to mention that she could be exactly what he needed to secure the promotion that his father had dangled in front of him like a proverbial carrot.

But as he watched the little furrow between her brows deepen, he couldn’t resist saying, “Not yet, anyway.”

Chapter Six

Megan was enjoying her first cup of coffee and the quiet solitude of the morning when she heard a key in the lock. A glance at the clock revealed that it wasn’t quite ten—earlier than her sister usually came home after spending the night with her fiancé, and a lot earlier than she would have expected the morning after their engagement celebration.

And when Ashley came into the kitchen, Megan noticed that Paige was right behind her.

“Why are you home so early? And what are you doing here?” The first question being directed to her sister and the second to her cousin.

“Are you kidding me?” Paige responded first. “I saw the lip-lock on the terrace.”

“And I want to hear all the details,” Ashley demanded.

Megan took a long sip of her coffee, hoping the over- size mug hid the flush in her cheeks. “It was an Academy-worthy performance, wasn’t it?”

Her sister scowled as she put on the kettle for the tea she favored. “What do you mean ‘performance’?”

“Gage was there, pretending to be my boyfriend,” she reminded her sister and cousin. “He thought a kiss might further the illusion.”

“A kiss is a way of testing the waters,” Paige said. “Like dipping a toe in the ocean. You and Gage—that was a tsunami.”

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” she denied, while secretly agreeing that in Gage’s arms, she’d felt as if she’d been swamped by an enormous wave. The heat and hunger had crashed over her, dragging her into depths that were so far over her head she wasn’t sure she would ever find solid ground again.

But it had only been one kiss.

Despite having alluded to wanting to do that and a whole lot more, when he took her home, he simply walked her to her door, took the keys from her hand to unlock it for her, then stepped back and said “Good night, Megan.”

And she’d gone inside alone, uncertain whether she should be relieved or disappointed.

“Then you’ve been getting a lot more action than I have.” Paige’s complaint drew her attention back to the present. “Because I got seared from the heat standing on the edge of the terrace.”

“And I missed it,” Ashley grumbled.

“You’ve got your own hot-and-heavy romance,” Paige reminded her. “I’m the one who needs to live vicariously.”

“Things didn’t go well with Ben last night?” Megan asked, anxious to change the topic of conversation.

Her cousin shrugged. “He’s sexy and sweet, but there just isn’t any zing.”

Before last night, Megan wouldn’t have had a clue what she meant. She’d been attracted to other men, had experienced the stirring of desire, but nothing in the category of zing. But after last night, after being held in Gage’s arms, she definitely knew about zing.

When Megan came into the lab Monday morning, Gage noted that she’d gone back to wearing her glasses.

And the ponytail and baggy clothes.

He was a little disappointed, but not really surprised. He wasn’t sure if she felt more comfortable dressed that way, or if she deliberately downplayed her natural attractiveness so that she didn’t draw attention to herself.

If he had to guess, he would say it was the latter, and he couldn’t deny that her efforts were mostly successful. He certainly hadn’t taken much notice of her prior to their chance encounter at the shopping mall.

But now that he knew her a little better, was aware of the subtle curves hiding beneath her clothes and the unexpected passion simmering beneath her cool demeanor, he knew he would never be able to look at her the same way again.

He would never be able to look into her eyes and not remember how they’d gone all misty and soft—like lavender fog—when he’d held her in his arms. And he’d never be able to look at her mouth and not remember how soft and sweet it tasted, and how avidly it had responded to his kiss.

But if memories of their kiss had tormented him throughout the rest of the weekend, Megan gave no indication that it had even happened. As always, she was the consummate professional at work. She performed the tasks that were assigned to her, answered questions when they were asked and generally continued with her duties as usual. She never sought him out, never initiated conversation, and not once did he catch her looking in his direction—as he found himself looking in hers, a lot.

He let her continue to ignore him—as it was obvious to him that’s what she was doing—for three whole weeks. On Friday at the end of the third week, as they were clearing up in preparation of leaving for the weekend, he finally approached her.

Megan looked up from the stack of files she was sorting. “I can finish up here if you have to go.”

“Go where?”

She shrugged. “It’s a Friday night. I thought you might have plans.”

He shook his head. “The only women I’ve seen since we’ve started prepping for this trial are the clinical subjects. And you.”

“Did you lose your little black book?” she teased.

A few weeks earlier, he couldn’t have imagined that she would have teased him about anything, and he wouldn’t have guessed that she had a sense of humor. But he knew her better now—and still not nearly as well as he wanted to know her.

“It’s a BlackBerry,” he teased back, and earned one of those rare, shy smiles. “But the only reason I’m anxious to get out of here tonight is that I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” she admitted.

“Got any plans for dinner?” he asked, deliberately casual.

“Oh, um, no,” she said. “Nothing specific. But I wasn’t fishing for an invitation or anything like that.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m in the mood for a burger and I have a rain check to cash in.”

Megan finished unbuttoning her lab coat, hung it on the hook by the door. “Actually, I’m—”

“You’re not going to renege on your promise, are you?”

“I don’t recall making a promise.”

“Then it’s a good thing I do.”

And that’s how they ended up at The Ranch with plates overloaded with quarter-pound burgers and spicy spiral fries. They didn’t talk much while they ate, or not about anything of significance, and when Gage finally pushed his empty plate aside, he noticed that Megan had nearly cleaned hers, too.

“You have an impressive appetite for a skinny little thing,” he noted.

“I like food,” she admitted. “It just never seems to stick.”

“What else do you like?”

She nibbled on a fry. “What do you mean—like books, music, movies?”

“Sure, we can start there.”

She sipped at her cola—the regular kind, not diet. “I’ll read almost anything, though I lean toward nonfiction.”

“Music?” he prompted.

“Blues-rock.”

“Movies?”

“Anything that I don’t have to think too much about. If I’m going to spend twenty bucks, which is what it costs by the time you add a bag of popcorn and a soda to the price of the ticket, I want to enjoy it. No dark war settings or depressing social issues or complicated psychological thrillers.”

“If it was my twenty bucks, could I pick the show?”

She frowned over his question as she sipped her cola again. “Are you inviting me to a movie?”

“Well, you did spring for dinner,” he said. “And there’s a new Vin Diesel movie playing. You know the kind, with lots of car chases and big explosions and very little plot.”

“Sounds like my kind of entertainment,” she said.

“Then it’s a date.”

She was okay until he called it a date.

Grabbing a bite to eat with a coworker—even if that coworker was Gage Richmond—wasn’t a big deal. Deciding to catch a movie together because they both had nothing else to do shouldn’t have been, either. But as soon as Gage put that label on it, all of her perceptions changed, and the easy camaraderie they’d been sharing suddenly wasn’t so easy anymore.

Unfortunately, she’d already agreed, and as the movie theater was within the same shopping complex as the restaurant, she had neither the time nor the opportunity to come up with a reason to bow out. He took her hand as they walked across the parking lot and Megan tried to be as nonchalant as he was about it, as if she held hands with guys all the time, as if the casual contact didn’t make her pulse race.

Gage was standing in line at one of the automated kiosks to buy their tickets when Megan felt vibrations in her chest. At first she thought it was her heart knocking erratically against her ribs, then she remembered that her cell phone was tucked in the inside pocket of her jacket and set to vibrate.

“Excuse me,” she said to Gage, and stepped away to answer the call.

“I know you had to work late tonight,” Ashley said without preamble. “I just wondered if you could pick up some Motrin on your way home.”

“What’s wrong?” Megan asked, alerted not just by the request for the medication but the obvious strain in her sister’s voice.

“The usual,” Ashley said, then sucked in a breath, and blew it out again. “Okay, it’s hit a little bit harder than usual.”

She moved back to Gage, who had just started scrolling through the movie options on the screen. “I’ll be home in fifteen minutes,” she promised.

Gage looked up and, without any question, stepped away from the machine so the next person in line could proceed.

“Problem?” he asked.

“My sister’s not feeling well.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. You can stay and watch car chases, but I have to get home.”

“Rain check?”

“That’s really not—”

He touched his finger to her lips, halting her protest.

“Rain check,” he said again, and it wasn’t a question this time.

“Okay.”

He insisted on walking her to her car, told her to take care of her sister and watched her pull out of the parking lot.

And though she was anxious to get home to Ashley, she didn’t quite manage to banish all thoughts of Gage from her mind as she drove away. And she couldn’t completely extinguish the little flicker of hope that the interest she’d seen in his eyes could be real.

At home, Megan found her sister on the sofa in the living room, curled up under a blanket and obviously in pain.

When Ashley had first been diagnosed with endometriosis, she’d been willing to try anything that might relieve the pain. It turned out that her symptoms could be treated quite successfully through the use of oral contraceptives. The problem with that, of course, was that she wouldn’t get pregnant so long as she was taking them.

Megan suspected that was why Ashley was suffering now, that she’d stopped taking her pills. It was no secret that her sister wanted a baby and while pregnancy happened easily for many women, it wouldn’t be easy for Ashley. In fact, her doctors had warned that it might not happen for her at all, but she refused to give up on the dream of someday holding a child of her own in her arms.

“Hey,” Megan said, coming into the room.

Ashley managed a weak smile as she accepted the medication and the glass of water her sister held out to her. “Thanks.”

Megan lowered herself onto the coffee table. “What’s going on, Ash? You haven’t had pain like this in years.”

Her sister dropped her gaze. “I stopped taking the Pill.”

Though it was just what she’d expected, Megan couldn’t hold back her sigh. “When? Why?”

“Just a few weeks ago. Because Trevor and I are getting married in the fall anyway and because I really want a baby.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she swiped at them impatiently. “And maybe because I feel him slipping away and I don’t know why, but I know if I get pregnant it will make things better.”

Megan wasn’t so sure that was the answer, but she was hardly in a position to offer relationship counseling to anyone. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this?” she asked instead.

“Because I didn’t think it was fair to always run to my little sister with my problems.”

“Forget the big and little part. You’re my sister.”

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from the lab.”

This time it was Megan who looked away. “I wasn’t actually at the lab.”

“Where were you?”

“I just went to grab a bite to eat.”

“Based on the deliberate vagueness of that response, I’m guessing you didn’t go alone,” Ashley said. “In fact, I’m guessing that you were with Gage.”

“So?”

“So … good for you.”

Megan frowned. “You’re making a big deal out of something that isn’t.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Her sister managed a smile. “I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.”

“You didn’t.” Megan jumped up when the microwave dinged, grateful for the reprieve from her sister’s questioning. She came back with a warm bean bag, which she laid gently across Ashley’s abdomen.

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything else?” Megan asked. “Do you want me to call Trevor?”

Ashley shook her head. “I tried calling him before I called you. I tried his office and his cell and got his voice mail both times.”

“You knew he was working late tonight,” Megan pointed out reasonably. “It makes sense that he would turn his phone off if he was with a client.”

Her sister nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. “You’re right. It’s just that he’s seemed so distracted and inaccessible over the last few weeks.”

“It’s tax season,” Megan reminded her.

“You’re right,” she said again.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Megan asked, hoping a mug of chai and a change of subject would smooth the furrow in her sister’s brow.

Ashley shook her head. “I want to hear more about your date with Gage.”

It was a change of subject but not quite the one Megan was hoping for.

“It wasn’t a date.”

Her sister’s brows lifted. “You were having dinner with a man yummier than anything on the menu—what would you call it?”

“A burger and fries.”

Ashley shook her head. “You wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask him out again—not without some serious bribery or blackmail being involved—so he must have invited you. Which means, obviously, that he’s interested.”

“Or maybe he just didn’t want to eat alone. You said it yourself,” Megan reminded her. “Gage is like the yummiest thing on the menu—the juiciest sirloin burger with all of the fixings. I’m the pickle spear they throw on the side of the plate. No one really wants it and it’s not particularly appealing, but it takes up space.”

“That’s so not true,” Ashley objected, then sucked in her breath and gritted her teeth.

Megan, understanding that another wave of pain had hit, turned the bean bag over. “Okay?”

Ashley nodded, exhaled slowly. “How are preparations for the trial going?”

“They’re under way,” Megan said, relieved to abandon the topic of Gage Richmond for now. “We’re scheduled to begin administration of the drug to the first group next weekend.”

She didn’t often talk to her sister about her work, partly because Ashley had no interest in what she was talking about. But a couple years earlier, she’d started doing some independent research in the hope of finding a drug that would not just help alleviate the symptoms of endometriosis for women who were trying to have children but improve their chances of conception.

About a year earlier, when she’d finally made some progress, she’d taken it to her boss at Richmond Pharmaceuticals and received official approval—and a budget—to continue her research. And now the drug whose development she had spearheaded was going into the clinical-trial phase.

“When will you know if it works?” Ashley asked, obviously anxious for some good news.

“It’s hard to say,” Megan told her. “The subjects will undergo testing at prescribed intervals throughout the next twelve months.”

“A whole year?”

Megan knew her sister felt as if she’d been waiting for forever already, and to wait another twelve months seemed interminable.

“Well,” Ashley said philosophically. “At least you have a reason to look forward to going into work every day.”

“I’ve always enjoyed my job,” Megan reminded her. “But, yes, I am anxious to see the results of this trial.”

Her sister smiled. “I wasn’t referring to the trial. I was referring to you spending a lot more time with Gage Richmond.”

Megan refused to admit how much she was looking forward to that. Because she would never hear the end of it if her sister had the slightest clue about how hard and how fast her heart beat whenever Gage was near, how her knees got weak if he stood close, and how everything inside of her felt all hot and quivery if he so much as smiled at her.

No way would Megan admit any of that to her sister. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit it even to herself.

Chapter Seven

It had been years since Gage had worried about asking a woman out on a date. Maybe he’d been spoiled in that it was rare for an invitation he’d issued—be it for dinner or dancing or a more private evening—to be refused. Or maybe he hadn’t really cared one way or the other. When he thought about calling Megan Saturday afternoon, though, he was unexpectedly apprehensive.

But he’d promised her a rain check, and he intended to deliver. Of course, she might already have plans, and he could accept that. Or she might simply not want to go out with him, but he didn’t want to acknowledge that was a possibility.

When the phone rang, he was both annoyed and relieved by the interruption. He snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Gage Richmond, it must be my lucky day that I managed to catch you at home.”

The sultry feminine voice was vaguely familiar, but Gage was having trouble filling in the details. “Who is this?”

The laugh was rich and warm. “I should be offended that you have to ask, but it has been a while. It’s Norah Hennesy.”

Norah Hennesy.

Tall … dark hair … luscious curves. and very, very flexible.

They’d dated for a few months more than two years earlier, and had gone their separate ways when she grew frustrated by Gage’s refusal to commit.

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

“Much too long.”

Gage didn’t need to be hit over the head to figure out why she was calling. And while he’d occasionally rekindled affairs with ex-lovers in the past, he wasn’t in the mood to go another round in the mating game with a partner who was looking toward a radically different finish line.

“So I was thinking,” Norah continued, “that we could maybe get some dinner at Chez Henri and get reacquainted.”

Chez Henri was an exclusive and expensive French restaurant where they’d frequently dined in the past. Gage had never quite figured out if Norah liked the food as much as she liked being seen there, but he’d never objected because the restaurant was close to Norah’s apartment and dinner had inevitably led to drinks back at her place and, if he felt like staying, breakfast in the morning.

It had been a long time since he’d had … breakfast with a woman, but her offer did little to pique his interest. Or maybe it was the fact that when he tried to picture the slumberous and satisfied morning-after look in her eyes—he simply couldn’t. Because he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes. He only knew that they weren’t violet.

Whoa—where had that thought come from?

“Gage?”

He forced his attention back to the woman on the other end of the phone. “That’s a tempting offer,” he lied, “but I already have plans for tonight.”

“Oh.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Maybe another time?”

“Actually, I don’t think so, Norah.”

“You’re seeing someone,” she guessed.

He started to deny it, but then he thought of Megan again. “Yeah, I am.”

“Well, then, maybe I’ll try again in a few weeks,” she said.

He frowned at her response, at this confirmation that everyone knew his reputation, and that no one ever expected his relationships to last—least of all Gage himself.

Even after he ended the call, he wondered how to define his relationship with Megan, or even if it could be called a relationship. She was a coworker, and maybe she was becoming a friend, but beneath everything else was an underlying physical attraction that was as baffling as it was intriguing.

He’d never known anyone like her—sweet and sexy and blissfully oblivious to her own appeal. And maybe it was this uniqueness that fascinated him.

Not that he had any intention of getting himself all tied up in knots over a woman just because she had eyes that haunted him in his sleep and lips that were so soft and sweet and so incredibly and passionately responsive.

No way. Especially not with the vice-presidency on the line.

He picked up the phone again and dialed her number, anyway.

Megan was caught off guard by Gage’s phone call. It was the only excuse she had for saying yes when he asked if she wanted to catch the movie they’d missed a couple of weeks earlier.

Still, she hated that she was a nervous wreck waiting for him to show up. In the lab, she wasn’t quite so intimidated by him because they were on a more equal footing. Over the past few weeks, she’d gradually become accustomed to working closely with him. But outside of the lab, she was all too aware of how completely out of her league she was with him.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he commented when she answered the door.

“My sister stepped on them, snapped the arm off.”

And Megan wasn’t convinced it had been an accident. Of course, Ashley denied that she’d broken them on purpose, but in the next breath she’d accused her sister of hiding behind the thick lenses and claimed she’d done her a favor by breaking them. Whether Ashley’s actions had been intentional or not, the end result was that Megan had to put her contacts in if she was going to see anything.

“How is your sister?” he asked now.

“She’s feeling much better.”

“Was it that nasty cold that’s going around?”

She shook her head. “No, it was just, uh, a female thing.”

“Oh,” Gage replied and, thankfully, left it at that.

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Megan ducked her head and lifted a hand to push her glasses up. Then she remembered they weren’t there and rubbed a finger over the bridge of her nose, as if to assuage an itch. But the corners of Gage’s mouth lifted, and she knew she hadn’t fooled him.

“I don’t wear contacts very often,” she admitted. “So I keep trying to push up glasses that aren’t even there.”

“I like when you wear your contacts,” Gage said. “It’s easier to see your eyes.”

She dropped her gaze again.

“You have beautiful eyes, Megan.”

She felt her cheeks flame. “Thank you,” she managed to respond.

“And lips so soft a man can sink right into them.”

She absolutely would not get all weak and flustered just because that smooth, sexy voice tempted a woman to forget all reason. “How many lines like that have you memorized for the sole purpose of making a woman go all warm and quivery inside?”

He only smiled. “Are you all warm and quivery inside?”

She was hot and trembling and very close to melting into a puddle at his feet. Recognizing that fact, she drew in a deep, calming breath and moved away to pick up her purse. “Yes, but Vin Diesel always has that effect on me.”

Gage chuckled. “I guess that put me in my place.”

But the real problem for Megan was that his place was right beside her through the movie.

He did his best to make her comfortable, keeping the conversation light and easy while they waited for the feature to begin. It wasn’t his fault that her heart sped up when the lights dimmed, or that her pulse raced when his fingers brushed against hers inside the tub of popcorn they were sharing, or that she felt shivers down her spine when he leaned close to whisper in her ear during the movie. It wasn’t his fault, but by the time the final credits rolled up on the screen, every nerve ending in her body was tingling with awareness.

And he seemed completely unaffected by their nearness. Of course he would be—he had dated a lot of women, beautiful and sophisticated women.

Which made her again wonder: What was he doing with her?

And what had happened to the guy who was reputed to go out with a different woman every night?

Because the man she was slowly getting to know didn’t bear any resemblance to the Casanova he was reputed to be. Or maybe it was simply that he wasn’t interested in anything other than friendship with her.

And that was okay, because she enjoyed being with him and talking to him and maybe, as they spent more time together, she would gradually stop acting like a silly schoolgirl with a crush on the captain of the football team.

Except that every time he touched her—a casual touch of his hand to her arm or an accidental brush of his shoulder against hers—she couldn’t help thinking about the not-so-casual or accidental full-body contact that had occurred at Ashley and Trevor’s engagement party.

Just the memory of the kiss they’d shared had enough power to steam her glasses, even when she wasn’t wearing them.

After the movie, they went for pizza.

While they waited for their medium deep dish with hot sausage and hot peppers, they chatted casually about current events. While they ate, the conversation veered to work topics, and Megan asked him, “When you were growing up, was it always your plan to work at Richmond Pharmaceuticals?”

Gage shook his head. “First I wanted to be a firefighter, and then a baseball player … or maybe it was a baseball player then a firefighter.”

She smiled. “Seven-year-olds are so indecisive.”

“I was eight,” he told her.

“And when you got a little older?”

He thought about the question, about the career options he’d considered through the years. There had been several, though none that he’d considered too seriously—aside from the microbrewery his friend Brian wanted them to start in college, when beer was very serious business to them. And he knew that he’d never thought too long or too hard about anything else because Richmond Pharmaceuticals had always been there.

The insight made him uneasy, but he responded casually to her question. “When I got a little older, I decided I would rather be a doctor or a rock musician.”

“A doctor or a rock musician?”

“It was a tough call—help sick people or get lots of girls?”

“And somehow you manage to do both while working at R.P.”

His smile was wry. “So the rumor goes.”

“Does it bother you—being the subject of company gossip?”

“It didn’t used to,” he admitted. “Or maybe I was just unaware of it before. But recently it seems to have become an impediment to my career advancement.”

“How so?”

“I had a conversation with my father recently,” he admitted. “And he told me that my inability to commit to a relationship has given some members of the board cause to question my maturity and commitment.”

He didn’t specifically mention Dean Garrison’s retirement because an official announcement hadn’t yet been made—and because he realized, perhaps belatedly, that Megan might very well be his competition for the job.

“So long as you do your job well—and no one could argue against that—your personal life should be irrelevant,” she said.

“I agree,” he said. “But there are others who don’t, and their opinions carry a lot of weight.”

“How are you supposed to counter that?” she wondered.

“Show them that I can make a commitment.” It was something he’d been thinking about since his conversation with his father and a decision that he hadn’t made lightly.

“You’re going to get married to impress the board of directors?”

“I have no intention of letting things go that far,” he assured her. “I wasn’t thinking of exchanging wedding vows but of getting engaged. At least temporarily.”

“I don’t think you can rent a fiancée as easily as a tuxedo,” she cautioned.

“You’re right, of course. But I was hoping, of all the women I’ve dated, one of them might be willing to do me a favor.”

“That’s quite a favor.”

“I know,” he agreed. “And even if I knew someone who was willing, the truth is, none of the women I’ve dated in the past is the type of woman I would settle down with.”

“What does that say about the type of women you’ve dated?”

“None except one,” he clarified.

She wiped her fingers on a paper napkin, then dropped it on her plate. “It still seems a little drastic to me,” she warned.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Then I’ll wish you luck.”

He appreciated the sentiment, but he didn’t need luck.

What he needed was to figure out a way to convince Megan to go along with his plan.

One of the reasons Paige went into her office on Saturdays was for the quiet. With the answering service handling all of the calls and most of the other lawyers and support staff away, she was able to focus on her work and catch up on anything that had slid during the week while she was busy with court appearances and settlement conferences and client meetings.

In each successive year since she’d started at Wain-wright, Witmer & Wynne, she’d been given more clients and greater responsibilities. She enjoyed the work and believed she was providing an important service to her clients, many of whom were too emotionally distraught by the breakdown of their marriages to think clearly about their rights and entitlements. But the side effect of her professional success was personal disillusionment with respect to marital relationships.

This realization was weighing heavily on her mind as she drove out of the parking lot beside her building and spotted Trevor Byden walking down the street. Going to work, she assumed, since her cousin’s fiancé’s office was a few blocks north of her own.

But then she saw him stop to talk to a woman who had come from the other direction, and take the grocery bags she carried. The woman smiled and rose up to kiss him—full on the lips.

The honk of a horn alerted Paige to the fact that she was stopped at a green light. She tore her gaze away from the disturbing scene and pulled through the intersection. As she merged with the traffic on the highway, she began to doubt what she had seen.

Maybe it hadn’t been Trevor.

It couldn’t have been Trevor.

Because Trevor was engaged to Ashley and she trusted that he was in love with and faithful to her cousin.

Still, she thought about what she’d seen the entire way home, and considered whether or not to mention it to Ashley.

But what could she say?

“I saw a man who I thought was Trevor kissing another woman?”

Because the truth was, she’d caught a glimpse of his profile, and the sense of recognition combined with the proximity to his office had made her think he was her cousin’s fiancé.

She wasn’t 100 percent certain the man was Trevor and she couldn’t tell Ashley it was, not without proof.

And she didn’t want any proof. She wanted to believe Trevor was truly devoted to Ashley.

But as a family-law attorney, she’d dealt with far too many cheating spouses. Whether infidelity was the cause or effect of the marriage breakdown wasn’t her judgment to make, she only knew that, far too often, there was a third party involved. And she was determined to ensure that Ashley not end up an unhappy statistic.

If it wasn’t Trevor that she’d seen, then her cousin’s fiancé had nothing to worry about. If it was Trevor—

No, Paige refused to acknowledge the possibility. She wanted to believe that her cousin’s fiancé was one of the good guys, because she needed to believe that there were at least some of them left in the world.

Over the next few weeks, Megan and Gage spent a lot of time together. Most of it at the lab, as the clinical trial for Fedentropin finally got under way and they both put in a lot of overtime hours, but they began to hang out after work, as well, frequently going somewhere to grab a bite to eat or, if they’d ordered in at the lab, just for a drink to chat and unwind. It was never anything formal or fancy—certainly nothing that she would say qualified as a date—but she believed they were becoming friends.

So Gage’s invitation to a barbecue at his parents’ house didn’t seem any more significant than any other meal and more shared conversation. Until she made the mistake of mentioning it to Ashley and Paige at one of their scheduled Friday night get-togethers.

It was Paige’s night to cook, which meant actual home cooking. When it was Ashley’s turn, they usually ate something that advertised “from freezer to oven to table” on the box, while Megan generally opted for pizza or Chinese or something else that could be delivered.

Paige was putting the finishing touches on her lasagna when Megan told them of her plans for the following night.

“He’s taking you home to meet his parents,” Ashley said, and while the statement wasn’t inaccurate, there was something in the way she said it that made Megan think the words were all in capital letters and flashing lights.

“He invited me to a barbecue at their house,” Megan clarified. “It’s not a big deal. His brother’s family will be there, too.”

“The extended family,” Paige said, in the same capital letters, flashing lights tone.

“It’s not a big deal,” Megan said again.

“Who are you trying to convince?”

“Gage said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Because he didn’t want you to get all freaked out about it,” Ashley guessed.

“Or maybe because it’s really not a big deal.”

“Are you that oblivious?” Paige asked her.

Megan frowned. “Oblivious to what?”

Ashley shook her head. “How long have you been dating now?”

“We’re not dating.”

Paige sprinkled grated cheese on top of the sauce. “You’ve been going out together after work at least two or three times a week. What would you call it?”

“Going out with a coworker after work,” Megan insisted stubbornly.

“But when that coworker is a sexy, single guy whose kisses pack enough heat to melt the polar ice caps, it’s called dating.”

“I might have to agree with you if I’d been getting any of those kisses.”

Now it was Ashley’s turn to frown. “You haven’t?”

Megan shook her head.

“All of those nights you’ve spent together?” Paige pressed.

“Nada.”

“What is wrong with that man?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him—he just doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend. Which is why I’m certain this dinner at his parents’ isn’t a big deal.”

“He hasn’t kissed you once?” Paige asked incredulously, not able to get past that fact.

“Not since Ashley and Trevor’s engagement party.”

“That does put a different spin on things,” her cousin mused.

“Maybe he’s just taking it slow,” Ashley suggested.

“Or maybe he just wants to be friends,” Megan said again, still unwilling to let herself hope they could be anything more.

It was a Friday night and instead of being out on a date or watching a game with some friends, Gage was surrounded by females. While he generally appreciated women of all shapes and sizes, he felt decidedly out of his element and outnumbered with his four nieces.

It was only supposed to be for a few hours, while Craig was at a late dinner meeting because Tess was away on a two-day business trip. After the first hour, Gage was at his wits’ end because Gracie hadn’t wanted to stop chatting online to come to the table for dinner, Eryn and Allie were grumbling because he wouldn’t take them to the movie theater to catch a show with their friends, and Lucy had fallen off of the bathroom counter after climbing up to try and catch a particularly nasty-looking spider.

So when the pizza box was empty and the plates and cups loaded into the dishwasher, he decided to entertain them the only way he knew how: he taught them to play Texas Hold ‘em.

He emptied the change out of the cup holder in his car and divvied it up so they had coins to wager with and he spent the next hour and a half teaching them the intricacies of this particular variation of seven-card stud. Lucy had just raked in the jackpot when her father finally walked in the door.

“Daddy, Daddy. I won!”

Craig’s eyes glinted with amusement as he glanced around the table, noting the drinks and snacks and his four daughters in their pajamas.

“How much?” he asked Lucy.

She beamed as she finished counting. “A dollar thirty-two.”

“Big stakes.” He looked at his brother. “I hope you didn’t hide the beer and cigars on my account.”

Gage shook his head. “Turns out your girls prefer gin, and Gracie took one puff of a Cuban and turned green.”

“I did not,” Gracie said, then frowned. “A Cuban what?”

Craig chuckled. “Never mind. Go brush your teeth and get into bed.”

Gage gladly tidied up the cards and snacks while his brother handled the bedtime routine.

When Craig came back downstairs, he disappeared into the kitchen for a moment then came out with two bottles of beer.

Gage took the one offered to him and studied the Millhouse Brew Co. label for a moment before he twisted off the cap. Millhouse was the company his friend, Brian, had been trying to convince Gage to invest in with him. But he’d declined, because he was a Richmond, and Richmonds made pharmaceuticals, not beer.

He lifted the bottle and took a long swallow, and had to admit that it was really good beer.

Craig propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Well, you survived,” he said to his brother.

“Barely.” Gage tipped the bottle to his lips again. “Don’t they drive you insane?”

“Every day.” His brother grinned. “And I couldn’t imagine my life without them.”

Gage knew it was true, but still, he wondered. “Did you ever worry—when Tess got pregnant, I mean—did you ever worry that you might not be able to stick it out?”

“Every day,” Craig said again. “I guess that’s not surprising, considering what we went through with Charlene.”

Gage nodded, acknowledging the complete lack of maternal instincts possessed by the woman who had given birth to them.

“And then, the very first time I held Gracie in my arms, I stopped worrying. Because I knew that nothing could ever matter more to me than my family, and nothing could ever make me leave them.”

“Like Dad,” Gage said. “He stuck with us even when she made his life hell.”

“Do you remember that? You were hardly more than a baby.”

“I don’t remember a lot,” he admitted. “But I’ve heard enough stories through the years to put the rest of the pieces together.”

“Why are we talking about this now?”

“I guess I was just wondering if it’s some kind of genetic defect that made Charlene incapable of really loving someone.”

“And wondering if you inherited that genetic defect,” his brother guessed.

“I’m thirty-two years old and I’ve never been in love,” Gage admitted.

“What about Beth?”

He scowled at the reference to his ex or maybe he was scowling at his own naïveté in ever believing that he’d been in love with her. “Beth was a leech masquerading as a human being.”

“That’s a pretty harsh assessment.”

“But not untrue.”

“No,” his brother agreed. “But you loved her, anyway, didn’t you?”

“I think I was more in love with the idea of being in love,” Gage admitted. “You and Tess had recently married, and I thought—for a while anyway—that I wanted what you had with her.”

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